


Warning Signs

by honeywolf



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: M/M, Mortal Loki, Odin's A+ Parenting, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2013-09-14
Packaged: 2017-12-12 11:03:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 57,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/810848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeywolf/pseuds/honeywolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In exchange for the Tesseract, S.H.I.E.L.D. agrees on taking care of Loki, who is banned to Earth, stripped off his powers until he is worthy of them again. Simultaneously, Tony is having nightmares about the owner of a certain pair of green eyes and begins having panic attacks as soon as the God of Mischief arrives at Earth. What is it that makes the sheer sight of Loki almost unbearable to him? - eventual Tony x Loki</p><p>Special thanks to lazyjayneislazy.tumblr.com for being my beta.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Panic

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys. This is my first fanfiction in English, I really hope you like it. Special thanks to my beta, Hel Lokison :)  
> Please, feed my muse with your comments ;)  
> As you probably have noticed, I have problems finding a title for this fic... ^^ You can of course make suggestions!

This day would have been great. Seriously great, Tony thinks, while staring at the ceiling of his one least favorite conference room in the S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters. Today, he would have even considered, for once, not starting drinking before noon. But considering what is going on right now, and it is not even eight A.M., Tony is not too optimistic about not drinking today. In fact, a glass of hard liquor would help him now. He could just sneak out of the room and grab one of the bottles of vodka he has hoarded all over the place. But one look at Nick Fury and he knows that the one-eyed man wants him to be sober. So Tony Stark has no other option than to stay seated on this really uncomfortable chair in this dark, small conference room where Nick Fury always breaks the bad news to them.

“You can’t be serious” Natasha blurts out, when Fury finishes. Tony has the same thing in mind and he is genuinely considering having a brain tumor that gives him the strangest sort of hallucinations. But he had JARVIS checking on him some days ago and there is no way a brain tumor is growing that fast. In his mind he goes through everything he has eaten in the last 24 hours instead, he searches for possible traces of psychedelics, but no, all he has eaten have been some scrambled eggs Bruce brought him when he decided to stay in his labs for a few days. Other than that, coffee. But neither Bruce nor his coffee maker would drug him, would they? And he is actually sober at the moment, so there can actually be no way he is hallucinating.

But why the fuck does he still hear Nick Fury’s voice then, explaining that Loki is to be banned on Earth?

“Repeat that. I think I just had a hallucination.” Normally, Fury would roll his eyes at him or at least hint at a smile. But he doesn’t. Shit just got serious.

“Odin” Fury repeats, and with a side glance to Thor who sits on his side for once looking serious, he adds “ _Allfather,_ has decided that Loki Laufeyson will be banned on Earth without his magic. It is up to us what we do to him, although Odin has made his disapproval towards us killing his son quite clear.” Fury clenches his teeth. “Trust me, I don’t like it either.”

“My brother may have caused your realm great sorrow, but you have my word that he will rehabilitate.” Thor doesn’t look as stern anymore as moments before, but there still is a deep line between his eyebrows.

“He and the Chitauri have killed hundreds of people. You can’t just send him back here!” Tony noticed Bruce going just a little bit green around the nose and laid a hand upon his shoulder in a calming manner.

“My brother was in rage. He just recently learned that he is not Odin’s biological child but a descendant of a race he loathes. I have spoken to him and he does not seem to understand the consequences of his actions. My father wishes to give him a chance to understand what he did and living with your race is how he wishes him to do so.”

This time, Tony can’t stay silent. “You don’t actually believe he will understand anything, do you? Your brother is nuts. He’s a psychopath. He made it clear what he thinks of us _Midgardians_. And why does your daddy think it’s a good idea to send him back to us of all things? Couldn’t he just be shipped off to the Frost Giants?”

“Unfortunately, Loki destroyed half of their realm. He is a traitor in their eyes and frost giants treat traitors with death.” Thor still doesn’t even grin a bit and the grave look on the demigod’s face is giving him goosebumps.

“Well, _unfortunately,_ Loki destroyed half of New York City, including my own fucking tower –the one I just finished building up again. He is considered a war criminal. Do you know what we do with most war criminals? Right, death sentence.” He isn’t sure if this is even true for alien gods who want to take over the Earth, but he doesn’t care; they don’t need Loki, they don’t want Loki. At least he doesn’t.

“Shut up, Stark. I didn’t call all of you here to discuss _if_ Loki will be shipped down here, I called you because he is going to arrive in a few hours.” Fury sighs and sits down. “I don’t like it either, but we have been made an offering that we can’t refuse.”

“So taking care of Loki’s just part of a deal? What kind of offer is it that you would say yes to something like _that_?” This time it’s Clint who is speaking.

Tony takes a look around. Everyone seems to be pissed off. Bruce looks calm and has his eyes closed, but Tony can see a faint green shimmer on his face. He absent-mindedly pats the doc’s hand and hopes for the best. Agent Romanoff has her lips pursed and looks as if she is ready to strangle someone. She is staring in Fury’s direction, but Tony nevertheless shifts back in his chair until he is half hidden by Bruce. Hell, even Steve looks disgusted by the idea of having their favorite God of Mischief over for vacation. And Steve almost never puts off his overly friendly and understanding super soldier mask.

“Odin is willing to hand us back the Tesseract.”

Oh fuck. Tony feels dizzy and next to him, Bruce leaps to his feet and bolts out of the room, alarmingly green. Even Thor looks surprised at this announcement. Which doesn’t make sense since Thor surely has served as a mediator between Fury and Odin. But when has the huge demigod ever made sense?

“You still want weapons” Tony spits out. An obvious observation, but it is all his mind revolts around right now.

Fury nods. “We want to prepare ourselves for possible invasions. The events of the last couple of months have shown us that we have to arm ourselves for defense. And you’ve made it very clear to not produce any weapons for us.”

Fury is actually right. He _had_ made it clear to never produce so much as a gun for S.H.I.E.L.D. But that was before all of this. He would have gladly manufactured every kind of firearm, bomb or grenade, just to prevent S.H.I.E.L.D. to retrieve Loki _and_ the Tesseract.

“Why didn’t you tell us… me before? I would have changed my mind.”

But Fury pretends he can’t hear him and continues, without even glancing in Tony’s direction. “When Loki arrives today at five P.M. I want each of you ready. He will be escorted to S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters; this means none of you takes an eye off him until he arrives. Understood? You will take shifts to guard him and bring him food until we can be perfectly sure he cannot use magic.” Thor grunts. This grunt probably means ‘Do you question the word of Odin Allfather?’, but Tony can’t be exactly sure about it, because he feels himself getting up, knocking over his chair in the movement and he feels his fists pressing on the table before Thor has the chance to say something.

“You can’t do that. You can’t just send a war criminal, with or without his powers, back to Earth and have _us_ taking care of him. We have fought him, remember? Hell, he pushed me out of a window. Of _my_ window in _my_ tower. You can’t actually ask me to go anywhere near this crazy ass psychopath!”

He doesn’t know how long he has been standing there, trembling, not able to move. Fury has left his outbreak uncommented and has dismissed the meeting before walking out of the room. It is Bruce, his hair dripping wet but otherwise seeming fine, who taps him on his shoulder. “Sorry, I went to the bathroom to cool my head off. The other guy wanted to throw Fury out of the building.” His smile is small and lopsided, but Tony can’t help to smile back when he turns around.

Sighing, he sits down on the table, arms crossed. “I can’t go near him.”

“I’m afraid you have to. You _did_ sign a contract, Tony. And unfortunately, there is a section about guarding criminals. These assholes thought of everything.” Bruce leans against the wall opposite to Tony. “But it’s not only about Loki, isn’t it? We all hate the idea of having him back, but you made quite a scene here. I could hear you even from across the hall. What is it all about?”

He can’t talk about it, so he shakes his head and runs his fingers through his hair. “Let’s go back to the tower.”

 

Bruce drives the car back to Stark Towers and Tony seriously doubts they’d make it before noon. The doctor is driving like he wants to pass his driving test, he is cautiously keeping to the speed limit and even maintains safety distance. Tony would love nothing better than to whip the steering wheel out of Bruce’s hands (he is apparently using both his hands to steer a car), but he fights back the urge to do so and instead fiddles with the radio until he finds some loud punk rock. Bruce turns the radio off an instant later.

“Why didn’t you let me drive again?” Tony moans, when the other one stops at a crosswalk to let an old woman cross the street. Absolutely pointless. With Tony driving they would have been home twenty minutes ago.

“You didn’t look ready to drive a car. You know, trembling and being all panicky.” Bruce’s eyes are fixated on the street before him.

“Come on, Bruce, then why are you driving like that? Do you want to win the award for driver of the year? Because there is no such thing.” Bruce actually laughs at this but sobers up after a short moment.

“I can’t risk causing an accident. Wouldn’t be so great to go all big and green in the middle of Manhattan, last time it happened I caused quite much damage.”

It makes sense, Tony admits. Nevertheless he is glad when they finally arrive at Stark Towers. “I’m taking a nap. See you in a few hours.” Bruce mutters, parking the car and handing the keys back to him. A sudden wave of nausea overcomes him when he thinks of later and he instinctively wraps a hand around his mouth. “Yeah, see you at Loki’s welcome back party” Tony manages to say before storming out of the car.

He still feels uneasy when he enters the elevator, but the urge to puke is gone. He doesn’t wait for Bruce to catch up with him and the doors of the elevator close before the doc has the chance to squeeze through them. _Something is definitely wrong with me_ , Tony thinks, panting. He leans against the mirror that covers one wall of the elevator, waiting for the strange feeling to go away, but it doesn’t. It feels like something squeezes all the breath out of him and it makes him lightheaded and his legs turn to jelly. When the elevator finally arrives at his floor, he stumbles out of it and almost doesn’t make it to his bedroom, suddenly exhausted.

“JARVIS, wake me up soon enough” he calls his A.I. before drifting off.

He is surrounded by green. He sees nothing but a pair of unnaturally green eyes and he is drowning in them – the piercing green is everywhere and suddenly it is Loki, standing right in front of him, with his strange Asgardian clothing, his sleek black hair and his pale skin. He waves a hand and there are more and more Lokis, slowly striding forward, closing in on him.

“You cannot defeat me, human.” None of the Loki-replicas move their lips, but now Tony hears laughing and it grows louder until he falls at his knees and covers his ears.

“I can defeat you. I have an armor. I have weapons”, he whispers and when the laughing doesn’t stop he lets out a cry. “I am Iron Man!” His voice resounds, making it sound like a war cry. Tony is alone again, kneeling on a black surface, everything is black, black, black. He closes his eyes, but there is Loki, inside of him, grinning like the maniac he is. “You are no one without your armor, mortal.”

With that, he is in his tower again, standing by the window. He checks his wrists, his bracelets are gone. Loki is next to him, a glowing ball of blue energy burning in his hand. His eyes, his unbelievable green eyes that make him unable to look away, to move, to do anything besides standing there in shock make Tony shiver when they pierce through him. Loki smiles, the corners of his mouth curve to a frightful grimace. He says nothing, but in his head Tony can hear him. _You are no one._ Over and over again.

Then Loki touches his arc reactor, fingers curiously brushing it. “Let’s see how well you can fly without your armor, Man of Iron.”

Tony feels the glass shatter behind him, pieces of it piercing his skin. He spreads his arms and all he feels is the wind, slashing him open like a blade while he falls in almost infinite space. Above him, Loki is still grinning widely, when he finally hits the ground.

When he opens his eyes again, he can’t see anything but bright sunlight. “Where… am I?” he murmurs, shielding his face off with his hand. “Sir, you are located at the floor of your bedroom in Stark Tower. It seems you had a nightmare, Sir.” Is this amusement in JARVIS’ voice? Coughing, Tony sits up, and indeed, he is in his bedroom, right next to his bed. He must have fallen from it, when…

He shudders. No, he doesn’t want to think about the dream that he just had. Not at all. But somehow he knows he will have the same dream over and over again, and he is sure that actually seeing Loki in person in a few hours won’t make it better.

“How long do I have until…?” he starts and thankfully JARVIS is the most intelligent A.I. there is, which is of course because he has made him himself, because he doesn’t even have to complete his sentence. “Exactly two hours and twenty-three minutes, Sir. And Dr. Banner suggests you have something to eat before you go. Preferably at his place. ”

Twenty minutes later, he knocks at Bruce’s door, two sandwiches in his hand. Bruce temporarily lives with him, which means he has a whole floor for himself, but they are in the same building, which means they are almost living together. How he managed to persuade Bruce to move in Tony still hasn’t figured out, but as far as he can remember, it included a whole lot of alcohol and a huge sum of money he donated to Doctors without Borders. He also asked Natasha, Clint and Steve to move in with him, but none of them seemed willing to leave S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ, which he totally could understand. Not.

“Hey, bud.” Bruce opens the door to his  - apartment, and grins. “I see JARVIS delivered you the message.” He grabs one of the sandwiches and goes back to the living room to sit in front of the huge plasma TV without asking about what happened to him earlier in the car, and Tony is thankful for it.

“There is a documentary about Norse mythology on history channel. Check this out, there is Thor.” Bruce points his finger to the TV where some blond guy with a ridiculous helmet and a hammer in his hand is riding a horse.

“Oh, and look, Loki. Oh come on, this man does look nothing like Loki!” Bruce laughs out loud and Tony asks himself how he manages to find this funny with a few hours left before they are meeting the actual Loki again while he is tensing and tries to concentrate on his sandwich.

“Or we could just watch something different. Hey, reruns of The Big Bang Theory!” Bruce says, with a side glance to Tony and switches channels.

Four episodes of The Big Bang Theory and a few bottles of beer later, JARVIS announces it is time for them to leave soon. Tony again feels his body growing tense. He has actually forgotten of what they are going to do for a short time.

Green eyes. Maniac smile.

He shudders. “Tony, what are you doing?” Bruce asks, putting the bottles away and turning off the TV. He barely manages to wave a hand at him. It is like something is sitting on his chest, pressing against his ribcage and keeping his lungs from being filled with air. His eyes widen, when there is no more air going inside his body, he tries to suck it in but he fails, he tries to call Bruce for help, but he can’t move, can’t breathe, can’t _think_.

When he feels something seizing his shoulders, jerking him upwards, his first instinct is to struggle against it, but he can barely move and his stomach is about to revolt.

“Tony? Tony!” He can hear Bruce’s voice, but he is far, far away and it is barely a whisper against a loud, piercing scream that just doesn’t stop.

When Bruce slaps him in the face, he notices that it is himself who is screaming. He lets himself fall back on the sofa, breathing hard. His stomach is still revolting but Tony doesn’t care anymore. He runs his fingers through his hair over and over again, but it doesn’t make sense – any of it, because he hasn’t been dreaming about the fall out of the window for weeks and he hasn’t been afraid for weeks. But still, all he can see when he closes his eyes is a frightening pair of green eyes. He needs his Iron Man suit right now. Maybe the Loki in his dreams has been right. He is nobody without his armor.

Is this what he is afraid of?

“What the hell was that?” Bruce asks, gaping at Tony. “You hyperventilated. You fucking screamed my ears off.”

He asks himself the same question, but actually he already knows the answer.

“Panic attack” he manages to get out before he pukes on the coffee table.


	2. Panic continued

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki is back, Pepper wants to talk and Tony is a bunch of misery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, my second chapter. Thanks to Hel Lokison (fanfiction. net) there shouldn't be many mistakes left. :)  
> I don't like begging for comments, but please, feed my muse and boost my ego :)  
> I'm really sorry that this chapter is so short...  
> but, anyways, have fun reading it!

He has no idea how he has made it all the way to the outskirts of New York City without another panic attack. Now, standing in a row with the other Avengers, waiting for Loki to arrive in the middle of nowhere on an uncultivated field, he feels the slight tingle of dizziness again. Next to him, Thor stares at the sky, peering for a sign of the Bifrost opening. While driving here, Thor told them right down to the last detail of the rebuilding of the destroyed rainbow bridge. It has been an unnecessary long and exhausting story, like every tale and story the big, broad-shouldered guy has ever told them, but Tony has been glad to hear the excited jabbering of the demigod, loud enough to drown his own thoughts.

Now, however, there is silence. On the screen in his helmet, Tony can see his heart rate going up and he tries to breathe in deeply. His knees again feel like jelly and he is extremely glad for wearing the Iron Man suit with the visor folded down, so no one could see how nervous he is. No, not only nervous. He is in panic again.

His thoughts drift off for a second, back to the fall through the window, back to his nightmares, back to the pair of peculiarly green eyes. _You are no one._ By now, he believes it.

“JARVIS, give me some music,” he mutters under his breath and JARVIS, his favorite A.I. in the world, starts playing AC/DC. Tony tries to concentrate on the beats and the song text, but he doesn’t fully succeed. The pair of green eyes is still etched in his mind, fixating him.

“They are coming,” Thor suddenly whispers, still staring at the sky above them. Tony moves his head, and really, there is something off with the sky. He can’t exactly tell what it is, but there is a sudden change in the atmosphere around them, something that sends shivers down his spine. JARVIS turns the music off and Tony can hear an electrostatic buzz, before the sky glows in all colors of the rainbow for a moment. There is a flash that turns his vision blazing white, something that sounds like a sudden collision with the ground and they are here. Unspectacular, really.

Two guards in full Asgardian armor, equipped with all kinds of swords, knives and spears, stand before them in all their alien glory. They nod approvingly when they see Thor and murmur something Tony cannot understand, and Thor broadly smiles at them. Another guard steps forward, holding the blue cube – the Tesseract – in his hands. He examines the group of Avengers and S.H.I.E.L.D. agents shortly and fastens his gaze on Tony’s armor a moment longer.

“Odin All-father sends his best regards to Midgard.” He strides forward again and when Fury takes a step in his direction, he hands him over the Tesseract. For a moment, Fury’s face lights up like the one of a child on Christmas, but Tony is not entirely sure if he hasn’t imagined this, because one moment later, Fury wears the same stern look as before.

The two guards in the center diverge and there he is. Loki, crouching between them, face turned away. His black hair has grown longer and hides his face and his clothes are not the usual green and black leather, instead he is clad in shaggy prison clothing. He looks small, vulnerable and awfully human, when he tries to straighten up himself he fails miserably. His arms are full with what Tony has thought of tattoos for a moment, but instead there are runes all over them, which seem to be carved in his skin.

Tony shudders again. Is this the man that has almost leveled New York City to the ground? Is this the one who torments him in his nightmares? What he sees right now is a young man, weakened and wounded, unsteady on his feet. He is even paler than he used to be and dirty all over; Tony notices that he doesn’t even have shoes on.

Loki sweeps his hair out of his face, his handcuffs clacking onto each other. He has his eyes half closed and is staring on the ground and Tony can see the dark circles under them. This looks nothing like the God of Mischief. This looks more like a beaten child, pale and thin and bruised all over.

He opens his eyes and stares at him.

Green.

Tony makes a step back, gasping for air. His sudden movement doesn’t go unnoticed and for a second, everyone is staring at him, but this changes, when one of the guards clears his throat.

“Loki Laufeyson does not possess any magical power at the moment. Odin All-father wishes for you to treat him as one of your own and to introduce him to your people’s customs and habits. He will remain with you until he understands and respects your race and is proven worthy of entering Asgard again.”

Wait. This does not at all fit into their plan of locking Loki up in S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, does it? Confused, Tony looks over to Fury, who gives the guard a short nod. The guards take a few more steps in their direction and Loki is dragged between them, feet barely touching the ground. When they reach Fury, they let go of Loki and instantly, two SHIELD agents take over.

As sudden as the Asgardians have arrived, they are gone again. They bow in front of Thor a last time, and everyone mutters their good-byes, before they step back into the circle of flattened ground.

“Farewell, our Midgardian friends,” one of the guards utters, and again there is a white flash following a short color-outburst and a blink of an eye later they are gone.

“It pains me seeing him like this,” Thor suddenly mutters, jolting Tony out of his thoughts. He blinks a few times, processing what Thor has said, then he shakes his head. He is glad not to be able to answer Thor’s questioning glance, because in the same moment everyone starts moving towards the vans.

The S.H.I.E.L.D. agents who have taken care of Loki suddenly stride towards to him and Thor, Loki still only half-conscious. “Could you please take him to the van over there?” one of the agents asks them and off they go, leaving the God of Mischief behind. Thor instantly lifts Loki like a puppet and flicks him over his shoulder, approaching the vehicle.

For a moment, Tony stands there, taking in the scene, trying to digest everything, but it won’t work. His knees are still jelly; his heart rate is still off the charts. For a second, though, there is peace – the strange kind of peace you can find standing amidst an ever moving crowd of people.

“Are you coming, Stark?” Thor is calling suddenly, and the peace is gone. What remains is the faint tingle of panic, like always these days.

A few minutes later, he is cooped up in the van, none other than Loki next to him. Thor sits on Loki’s other side, sadly smiling at his brother, who is staring into empty space.

“Brother, I am glad to see you again,” Thor begins, but there is no response whatsoever coming from Loki. Tony is actually glad about this, the mere thought of Loki’s voice is giving him the creeps.

On the drive back to Manhattan, no one says a word. Tony and Bruce exchange glances, but otherwise they sit in dead silence. For most of the drive, Tony forces himself to look out of the window, trying to forget the person next to him. But somehow he ends up staring at Loki, who is sunk down on his seat, not moving the tiniest bit. Without his armor, the Asgardian doesn’t exactly look threatening. Quite on the contrary. Loki’s once sleek black hair now falls down onto his shoulders in loose curls, and together with his slim face, it makes him look younger – in his early twenties at a max. His arms, curled around his stomach, are over and over carved with runes – on some of them Tony could still see the dried blood.

He must be in pain, Tony thinks, and the panic which is rearing up inside him since he entered the car, settles down a bit. Seeing his enemy powerless and in pain is somewhat comforting.

Nevertheless, he is relieved when he gets out of the car at S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ. The cell they’re taking Loki is small. Essentially, it is a plexiglass cube, with a small bed inside. The cube itself is situated in the middle of a rather big room with no windows. There are at least a dozen neon tubes around and inside of Loki’s cell, illuminating every inch of it which makes the god of mischief look like an exhibit.

After locking him up, Tony is leaning against the wall, taking his helmet off for the first time in hours. Next to him, Steve and Bruce look expressionless at the figure in the cell, and Thor still doesn’t seem too happy. One of the heavy doors to the room opens and Fury enters, Clint and Natasha in the tow.

“Captain, you’re first. Watch over him, tell me instantly if something seems strange to you.” Fury receives a short nod from Steve.

“The rest comes with me.”

As soon as the door shuts behind them, Fury begins to walk up and down in front of the rest of the Avengers.

“You have heard the Asgardians. Odin expects us to teach Loki how to be a decent human being. So after we are perfectly sure Loki does not possess any magical power, he will be released from this cell. He will still be in our custody, though. He will be given a room and it will be your duty to take care of him until he goes back to Asgard.”

“What if that never happens?” It is Natasha, playing with one of her knifes, who asks that.

Fury darts a stern glance at her. “He will return eventually.” With that, he strides down the hall, his black coat sweeping behind him.

An hour later, Tony and Bruce are back home. “Wow. I never thought I would make it through the day.” Bruce only grins at that and pats his shoulder. “Good night, Tony.”

When he enters his room, he finds himself in company. Pepper is sitting on his bed, wearing a gorgeous black dress and high heels. She rises as soon as she sees him and smiles, but her smile doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Pepper, what’s up?” Tony walks up to her and puts his hands around her waist, but she takes a step back instead.

“We need to talk, Tony.” She sits down again on the edge of his bed and Tony does the same. An uncomfortable silence falls between them. What the hell is wrong? And why doesn’t Pepper say anything? Tony opens his mouth and closes it again, not quite knowing what to do.

“I’m sorry, Tony.” Despite the words being barely a whisper, they resonate in Tony’s head. Sorry? Sorry for what? He doesn’t want to hear it.

“Pepper, I –“ He doesn’t want to hear anything of this.

_Please, don’t do this to me. Please, stop. Let’s forget about this._

He wants to touch her, to kiss her, to tell her that everything is going to be alright, but deep inside of him he knows that, in fact, nothing is going to be alright.

“I’m sorry, Tony. I can’t do this anymore.”

She’s breaking up with him. Just like that. He buries his face in his hands for a moment, trying to grasp what she just said, but he can’t. He doesn’t understand.

_Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in._

The panic is coming back. It’s taking control again.

“Pepper, please, just go. Please, leave me alone. I want to be alone.” He can’t ask why, he isn’t sure if he wants to know why, anyway. It must seem rude of him to just kick her out like that, without giving her a chance to explain herself, but there is no way she is going to see him falling apart.

“Please, Pepper. We can talk later.”

_Breathe in._

_Don’t cry._

_You are no one._

He tries to ignore the voice in his head, even when Pepper is gone. He doesn’t take the elevator to his labs, instead he takes the stairs, one step after another, trying to keep his mind focused on his every movement. It takes an eternity to reach the labs, but at least he is breathing normally again.

“JARVIS, music. “

There is work to do – refining his Iron Man suit, working on his cars, whatever. Work that requires his utmost concentration. He decides to do some improvement on his gloves, but after a while, his mind drifts off to Pepper.

“JARVIS, turn the music louder. I don’t want to hear my thoughts.”

The music blasts out of the speakers almost unbearably loud, but Tony still can’t think of anything else besides how shitty this day went.

 _I’m not running from my feelings,_ he tells himself, but he knows this is a lie. So he pours himself a drink instead of continuing working. When the liquid touches his lips, then his tongue, when it flows down his throat, there is relief at first, but it doesn’t last for long.

Pepper. Pepper has broken up with him. Before he realizes it, the bottle is half empty. He doesn’t care for pouring the liquor in a glass anymore, but drinks it straight from the bottle, while listening to angry music.

JARVIS must have noticed his mood swing, because soon Tony finds himself listening to a sad ballad. The bottle is almost empty by now.

He is tired. So, so tired. The thought of Pepper still weighs heavily on him, but his senses are numbed now, his body feels heavy and so he slides off his seat, landing on the ground.

Green eyes. They are here again. Even in his drunken state he feels his pulse rising at the mere thought of them. He forces himself to think of Loki as vulnerable, beaten and in pain, but his brain won’t obey.

_You are no one. You hide behind your armor and your heroic deeds. But you are no hero, Tony Stark._

He wants to protest on his own thoughts, but somehow they are true – Tony Stark, the former merchant of death hides behind Iron Man, the superhero. Who was he?

He recalls Steve asking him the same.

_Big man in a suit of armor. Take that away, and what are you?_

_Genius._

_Billionaire._

_Playboy._

_Philanthropist._

But right now, he is nothing more than a bunch of misery.

With that in mind, Tony Stark drifts off in a dreamless sleep.


	3. Mortality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for this extremely short chapter.  
> Special thanks to my awseome beta Anthony E. Stark (fanfiction.net). Please leave a comment if you liked the chapter, also if you hated it - I need your feedback. :)
> 
> Also, this one is Loki's POV.

The light burns into the insides of Loki’s eyelids. He doesn’t dare open his eyes, lying there on this quite uncomfortable bed in this peculiar Midgardian prison cell. He doesn’t move – too vivid is the memory of the pain that comes with his every movement. The pain derives from the runes carved into his arms, one of the reasons he does not want to open his eyes. The runes are a constant reminder of his failure – an ancient spell to bind his own magic. Eventually the pain will cease and the wounds the runes have caused will heal, leaving nothing but a faint memory of the power he has once called his own. Inside of him, however, the pain will never stop.

It is almost perfectly silent, except for the constant humming that Loki has found on various occasions around Midgard. He does not remember having heard this sound on his first visits to the realm, hundreds of years ago, so it must have some connection with what humans call electricity. Other than the soft whirring sound, Loki hears nothing. With the loss of his magic, his senses have dulled. He has the constant feeling as if there is a mist in front of his eyes, and something blocking his ears. He can still perceive his environment, although he has access to only a fraction compared to when he still possessed his magical powers.

Eventually, he opens his eyes. Only to close them again an instant later. The cell he is located in is illuminated by Midgardian torches, which are a hundred times brighter than fire and blind his eyes like the sun. Loki turns his head away from the light, trying to open his eyes again. The room is still brighter than any room in Asgard could ever be, but at least it doesn’t hurt his eyes anymore. He slightly turns his head and looks around with narrow eyes, to familiarize with his new environment. The cell he is in is a cube made of glass, without any noticeable entries. Aside from the small bed he lies in, there is a toilet on the opposite side of the cell – at least the white stool with a hole in the center looks like it could be a toilet, although he is not exactly sure, the toilets in Asgard have a different appearance. His cube is situated in the center of a considerably large room with walls made of metal, with quite a number of Midgardian appliances and instruments to be found.

He dares to completely open his eyes now, and despite his aching body sits up. On the far end of the room, near the heavily steel-clad door, a single person is sitting, a book in hand and casting a glance at Loki from time to time. One of the Avengers. To be precise, the one who they call “Captain America” – he is even wearing his blue and red suit, but the headpiece is missing. It is the first time Loki can actually see the man’s face. Even for a Midgardian he still looks rather young, which might have something to do with his short blond hair and blue eyes. The “Captain” – Loki cannot recall his real name – looks at him for a moment, but he does not seem too interested, as he continues reading the book that looks ridiculously small in his hands.

The Avenger suddenly swears silently and then grabs a small black device that is lying next to him on the ground and eyes it for a moment before pressing a button.

“He has woken up”, he says and Loki can hear the wary undertone in his voice.

“About five minutes ago. Has anyone called Stark? He should have been here two hours ago.”

Stark. That name rings a bell. Loki remembers the man in the shiny golden and red iron armor; the man with the heart made out of steel, at least this was what the god thought the most bizarre shining round plate on Stark’s chest was. The man had extremely advanced machinery – even he had to admit that, otherwise he wouldn’t have survived the fall out of this hideous excuse of a tower.

He absent-mindedly attempts to run his fingers through his hair, but shrieks back at the pain that runs through his lower arm at the sudden movement. Right. The runes. For a few moments, he has completely forgotten about them.

The magic that suppresses his own magical powers, is older than the seven realms, it is said. Only a very skilled sorcerer would have been able to perform such kind of magic and Loki would be overfond of knowing who the carver had been, but unfortunately he had been blindfolded when they took his magic. It would have been a familiar face, of that Loki is sure – there are only a handful of magicians who can match up with him. _Could_ , he corrects himself. He is nothing but a mere mortal now. Stripped off his power, his immortality – everything that had once been of value to him has been stolen from him. He shifts his position so that he faces the wall of glass now and lets his forehead press against the cooling material. Why couldn’t they have just beheaded him, like every other traitor? Why dispose of him in such a unworthy way? They have banned him to Midgard like they have once banned Thor, but at least Thor didn't have to suffer the humiliation that comes with being imprisoned by mortals, knowing, that for once, they are coequal to him.

Without even thinking about it, his fist hits the glass. The pain that unfurls in his knuckles seconds later and is spreading through his arm until it reaches his shoulder, brings tears into his eyes. Bewildered, he stares at his knuckles for a moment, moving his hands around. He hasn’t noticed before – he has been too concentrated on the loss of his magic to notice. Not only is he mortal now, he also does not possess the physical strength anymore that he once called his own. He is vulnerable. And there is absolutely nothing that sets him apart from those mortals any more.

Slowly and carefully he sinks back into a lying position, wincing in pain with every movement. The lights are almost unbearably bright, burning his eyes even when he closes them. He once read that it pleases humans to confine animals of all sorts into cages just to look at them. Was this the same? Would there be more people, eventually, queuing up in front of his perfectly illuminated prison cell, to feast on his injuries, on his weakness until they lose interest?

If he just lies there and holds his breath, will his body oblige him to suffocate?

It doesn’t. Instead he eventually breathes in again, forced by instinct. He drifts off after some time, the bright lights giving him the impression of his eyes covered in blood.

_When the magic is drained from his body, Loki feels like his skin is being ripped off. He is quite sure he is screaming, but he cannot hear anything. He has a sensation as if a thick cloth is placed around his body, muffling his every sense. The connections – the traces of magic all around him are starting to fade and he mentally tries to cling on them, but he fails. They cease to be, just like that. Fading into nothingness._

_The pain in his arms stops after a while and he finds himself alone in his prison cell, kneeling on the ground. His eyes are spread open widely, as if he can catch some last string of magic if he concentrates enough. But nothing. He can see – the filthy floor of his cell, the strange, foreign runes carved into his arms, the blood pouring out of his wounds. But he cannot really see. There is nothing left that connects, analyses, makes sense of what he is seeing. How can mortals even think?_

_Pain seems to be the only sensation that isn’t dulled. In fact, the pain is stronger than ever before. He forces himself to lean into it, embrace it, just to escape the numbness that takes over his body. But even then, something is off. He doesn’t feel alive. How do mortals tell if they are still living and breathing, when they can hardly feel, see or hear anything?_

_A thought is pouring into his conscious mind. Maybe he didn’t survive the process. But unfortunately, the pain is telling otherwise, it slowly takes over his body, ripping him open and tearing his insides out. The blood that is flushing through his body feels like liquid fire, melting his veins. He senses his broken ribs, only half mended and when his feverish glance hits the runes on his forearms, he can see that the red, hot liquid still hasn’t stopped streaming out of the wounds the ancient magic has caused._

_After hours of kneeling on the filthy ground, swaying back and forth under the recurring bouts of pain, most of it is fading eventually. What stays is a throbbing pain in his arms, but it is bearable and for a moment he is thankful for it. Then, after a few rather peaceful moments, curled on the ground, the feeling of numbness prevails again. He brushes his fingers over the cold stones that clad the wall and his hands are heavy and won’t fully obey. He only feels cold, but the stone is just a stone, there isn’t even the faintest hint of the magic that should be there – magic that can be found in every particle of everything that exists._

_Nothing. He closes his eyes and imagines the energy flowing through his body, his hand still on the stone._

_But still, nothing. Not even a spark of magic. So when his fingers become cold, he gives up._

 

“Fuck, fuck! Anyone, it’s fucking bright in here, turn down the lights!”

Loki blinks, not knowing where he is for a moment. When he opens his eyes, he faces a wall of glass and he immediately remembers. S.H.I.E.L.D. The mortal’s strange idea of a prison cell. Something is different, and he doesn’t immediately know what it is, but an instant later he notices that it is, indeed less bright in the room. Slowly and carefully he turns around on the pathetic excuse of a bed and instantly cringes – his ribcage still hurts, but somehow he manages to sit up.

He is more tired than before, in fact, since he – he swallows – is mortal, he is tired all the time, something he had never experienced before. He blinks several times but his eyesight doesn’t get better, but nonetheless his eyes search for whoever it was that startled him out of his sleep.

Stark.

Captain America must have left when Loki was sleeping because now Stark has taken his place, wearing his utmost hideous armor. The faceplate is carefully placed next to the chair Stark is sitting, and the man himself is looking lost, his pupils wandering across the room, never standing still, until they rest on Loki.

Stark noticeably tenses, his hands clench to fists and he shifts his chair backwards until he reaches the wall. His eyes are still searching the room restlessly, avoiding looking directly at Loki. Curiously, Loki slides down from his bed and cautiously moves forward. What is wrong with the great Tony Stark, with his false smile on his lips and his constant babbling? Both are missing right now. Instead, Stark’s face, or what Loki can see of it, is lacking every color and his lips are nothing but a thin, bloodless line.

“Don’t… move.” Stark is clearly struggling with himself now. He stands up from his chair, his every movement agitated and even through his armor Loki can see his hands shaking. This could become interesting.

He slowly takes a step in Stark’s direction, then another, and another, until his fingertips touch the glass in front of him. The man of iron is seemingly distressed, by now his whole body is shaking. “I said don’t move”, he manages to say, but what should have surely been a threat doesn’t sound like one with Starks shaky, anxious voice.

The Man of Iron is afraid of him. Who would have thought that.

For the first time in days, Loki’s lips curl to a malicious smile, baring his teeth. When Stark backs out of the room Loki’s smile doesn’t falter, on the contrary, it even broadens.

This could turn out quite interesting.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback, please?  
> Lots of love,  
> Laufeyson


	4. Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Bruce talk about Tony's panic attacks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, again, thanks to Anthony E. Stark for beta-reading. Also THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 30 KUDOS AND 36 SUBSCRIPTIONS!! AAAAAAAWWWW!!  
> This chapter is a bit of a filler and SORRY, no Loki this time. But next time, okay? I promise!  
> :)  
> Sooo.. please, boost my ego, feed my muse and fuel my imagination with your wonderful comments.  
> And... tell me if there is something you don't understand, I literally fell asleep when writing this yesterday/today, so I guarantee nothing.

Something is seriously wrong with him. And he doesn’t just think that’s because he is hung over. This time, it’s for real.

How long has he been in there, staring at the slim pale god of mischief lying there on his bed, sleeping? It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes. He probably would have gotten through his shift if Loki would have stayed asleep.

Could have, would have. Right now, it doesn’t matter – he is a mental wreck. Tony runs his fingers through his hair, which is still dusty because spent the night on the floor of his lab, passed out from drinking too much. Drinking, because Pepper broke up with him.

Tony is still right outside the room Loki is locked in, he hasn’t made it far. His heart is still beating like crazy, and his knees again feel like jelly – without his suit he wouldn’t be able to even stand straight, but even with it, he must lean on a wall.

 _Breathe_.

His jaw is clenched, every muscle in his body is tensed. Tony forces himself to breathe slowly, but still he is almost hyperventilating. Eventually, he slumps to the ground, ignoring the awful screeching sound his armor makes when it slides along the wall.

“Sir, your heart rate is still alarmingly high.” Even JARVIS sounds worried. He chooses to ignore it.

 _Breathe_.

The panic is in his blood, streaming through his body with every heartbeat. It paralyzes his brain, it numbs his legs, it tenses his muscles until they are starting to hurt. The panic is in his heart, causing it to pump blood in his body faster and faster, it is in his lungs, preventing them from breathing, in his eyes, making everything blur together.

His trembling fingers finally press the button of the intercom in his ear.

“I need Barton, Thor or Romanov looking after Loki. I… I need a break. And send Banner. Now.”

The connection is shut off before whoever was on the line has a chance to speak, but after a few minutes, a grumpy looking Agent Barton and Bruce, seemingly concerned, arrive. Barton is shoved off by Bruce before he can open his mouth, and the instant the door closes behind him, the doc is crouching in front of him and putting a hand across Tony’s forehead.

“Tony… you look like shit.”

“Fuck you.” The words are almost not audible and Tony again has the urge to puke as soon as he opens his mouth.

His vision is again blurring and he feels like he is passing out. He just can’t breathe. Something is blocking his airway, keeping his lungs from filling with air – he forces himself to take a deep breath, but still it seems to him that he is suffocating.

“…should go home. Tony, can you hear me? Tony?”

Someone is shaking his shoulders. It’s Bruce, of course, and when Tony can see clearly again, there seems to be nothing but concern in the eyes of his friend. There is a deep line on his forehead when Bruce stares down on him, his hands still on Tony’s shoulders.

“Can you stand up?” he asks, offering him a hand and Tony is not sure at all, but nods. He feels the blood rushing into his head as he grasps the doc’s hand, and stumbles when he tries to get to his feet. Eventually, he is standing again, feeling light-headed with his whole body trembling, but most of the panic is gone. Bruce has his hand around his waist and even if some part of Tony’s brain finds this a tiny bit humiliating, he doesn’t keep the dog from half-dragging him through S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters.

“Tony, I could really use your nerve-racking babbling now,” Bruce mumbles, when they finally sit in his car, driving back to Stark Tower with Bruce steering the car for the second time this week. For once, Tony is not in the mood for talking, so he just shrugs his shoulders and stares out of the window.

His thoughts are revolving around one particular pair of green eyes, maliciously staring at him. Even in his now mortal form, there is something about Loki’s sheer presence that makes Tony shudder. There is nothing to deny anymore. He is afraid of the god. Afraid.

The drive home is a single blur. Bruce doesn’t even bother to turn on the radio, and so they have are sitting in silence next to each other, eyes fixed on the road before them. Bruce is even driving extra slowly and carefully, just to piss Tony off, but the billionaire isn’t paying attention enough to comment on this. He isn’t paying attention at all – the pair of green eyes are dominating his brain the whole time.

When Bruce once again parks the car in Stark Tower’s garage, Tony’s first reaction is to open the car door and try getting to the elevator, up to his room, but before he can even set one foot outside of the car, he feels Banner firmly clutching his arm.

“You are coming with me. No running away this time.”

As soon as they reach Bruce’s floor, the doc gets a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. He drags Tony to the sofa and a glass of whiskey is thrust into his hand. Bruce sits down next to him on the sofa, cross-legged, brows arched questioningly.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Tony?”

He needs three slugs of whiskey to answer this question.

“I think I have PTSD.”

Wow. This one was easier than he had thought. Maybe because he really wants to talk about it. And Bruce seems the perfect candidate for talking. Actually, he doesn’t really want to talk about all of this, but there is the tiny spark of hope inside of him that talking could make it better. And so he talks.

“Ever since all that bullshit that happened a few months ago, I have nightmares. I can’t sleep anymore, because when I sleep, I have to relive being tossed out of the window, flying the bomb in the wormhole – everything. So I work. In the last couple of weeks I have been asleep in my bed for maybe three times – the longest I was up was four days in a row before I passed out. And even then I dream of… I dream of Loki. Every fucking time I close my eyes I can see him, laughing at me, insulting me, and eventually tossing me out of that window again. But in my dreams, there is no suit that can save me last second. There is only me. And Loki, laughing his ass off when I am about to die.”

He takes another sip of his whiskey, not looking directly at Bruce. He doesn’t want to see his face right now, not before he is finished.

“Funny thing is, when I was being tossed out that window, I haven’t been afraid. I haven’t even have time to think about what had happened, fighting aliens and stuff. There are so many things that would make more sense for me to dream of at night – flying into that wormhole, for instance. But no, I don’t see the Chitauri spaceship exploding when I close my eyes, I see goddamn Loki, and his weirdo eyes, and I hear him talking about how inferior I am in his Shakespearean British accent – why does he even sound British? He is a Norse god; shouldn’t he speak Norwegian or something?”

Bruce doesn’t make a sound.

“Well… and I have these panic attacks lately. I had one or two right after the battle, but they’re back now. And I can’t stand in front of windows any more, and I haven’t been flying for a while now. It’s... I don’t know how to explain it. All those years now I have felt more or less safe. Yes, I was held captive in Afghanistan, and someone wants to kill me like every month – but as soon as I am in my suit, I have the feeling there is nothing I can’t conquer. Even without my suit I am not completely helpless. Steve taught me to fight a bit and hell, I am a genius, there is always something I can come up with when I am in trouble. But now… all I see are my weaknesses. My suit may be fast, it may be resistant, but it doesn’t make me invincible. And all my genius wouldn’t have helped me the moment he threw me out of the window. And I hear it every time I close my eyes. I am no one. Nothing. I am the ant and he is the boot.”

“But Tony, you’re strong –“

“No, I am not. I am human. There is no invincible green rage monster inside of me, neither am I a super soldier or a crazy ass Norse god. I can hide behind the most high-tech armor as much as I like, but I am human. I am vulnerable. My suit runs on power, it has to be charged regularly and it is completely useless without energy. I literally feel like I am going to die every second of the day. And there is always a chaos god in my head laughing at me while I have such thoughts.”

“Tony, this is bullshit. Seriously, stop thinking like that.”

“I was almost able to forget it. The nightmares were getting better lately. But now… I was serious yesterday. I can’t be near him. It’s enough that I am on the same planet as him. It doesn’t make any sense, but my brain kind of shuts down when I am near him – even when he is behind a glass cube, barely strong enough to stay on his feet.”

“I… I really can’t help you with this, Tony,” Bruce stammered. “I am not that kind of doctor. I know how to deal with panic attacks, but I am not really sure this is all you need. It seems pretty serious.”

“So, even with your limited knowledge, is there anything you can tell me to do?”

“Accept your fear. Let the panic be part of you, embrace it. Try lying down next time it hits you, breathe slowly, deeply and don’t ignore what your body wants to tell you. Just listen to yourself and don’t fight it. As for Loki, I have honestly no idea. Don’t avoid him. Maybe you just have to get used to him.” Bruce didn’t seem completely convinced with this.

“Oh, one more thing. Sleep more. You’re ruining yourself.”

Tony just took another sip of his whiskey and let all sink in.

“I feel useless,” he muttered after minutes of uncomfortable silence. “In my current state, I’m not sure if I am able to fight anyone. This weird shit that is going on in my head right now – I feel like it is taking control of me. What if the next guy we have to fight looks somehow like Loki? Or what if I find myself somewhere high up in a building, near a window? I’m really afraid of having a panic attack someday when no one can come rescue me. Hell, I don’t want to rely on someone rescuing me.”

“You could always talk to a professional.”

“Yeah? And say what? I have panic attacks since the day some weird alien chaos god wanted to rule our world and tossed my out of a window? Oh yeah, and there was this one thing about flying through a wormhole with a fucking atomic bomb, but that doesn’t bother me at all. I just think… nobody would get it. And I don’t want to talk about all of this crazy ass shit to some random psychologist.”

Bruce doesn’t sigh, but one glance at the doc and Tony can almost see him sigh inwardly. Instead, Bruce smiles a small, apologetic and definitely helpless smile.

“I really don’t know how to help you.”

“It’s enough if you just listen, believe me. I’m feeling much better.”

And this is actually true, he really does feel better. His heart is still hammering in his chest a little bit too loud and too fast, his knees are still jelly, but overall he has to admit that the panic is almost gone. Maybe the alcohol is calming his nerves, though Tony doesn’t think so. It’s being honest about what is going on inside of him, for once.

They don’t talk much after that, Tony is only asking Bruce why he isn’t drinking any whiskey, but all he receives is a shrug and an“I’ll probably have to do a shift later.” So instead of talking, they watch TV for a bit, mostly reruns of sitcoms and some news. At some point they get hungry and Bruce is rummaging through the fridge, after that.

“I only have cold pizza left, is this okay with you?”

Sure as hell it is. Tony only smiles at Bruce’s overly polite attitude. Seriously, Banner is about the nicest and most caring person he knows, except when he turns into the rage monster.

After eating the old pizza (that still tastes delicious), Bruce’s phone rings twice. The doc doesn’t even bother answering it, just rolls his eyes annoyed. “Guess I gotta go. Wish me luck not to die of boredom.”

He takes his jacket and picks up Tony’s car keys, shooting a glance at him.

“Sure, take them. Just don’t drive too fast, okay?”

This actually makes the doc laugh out loud. Before he reaches the door, he turns back to Tony, who is still chewing on a slice of pizza.

“Tony?”

Tony turns around to him and mumbles something unintelligible.

“You’ll make it through this stuff. You’re an Avenger. One of Earths Mightiest Heroes. Don’t forget that.”

For the first time in months, Tony’s smile is genuine.

“Thanks, Bruce.”

After he hears the door shut, he turns his gaze to the TV again. He really tries to focus on “Two and a half men”, but it doesn’t work that well, so he takes his phone out to check some emails.

The first thing he sees is that he has an unread message. Second thing is that the message is from Pepper.

“Oh fuck.” He totally forgot about Pepper.

-Tony, we need to talk. This is not how I wanted it to end. P

Before he can think of what to write back, his phone rings. It is Fury. Shit is about to hit the fan – again. Breathing in deeply, he turns down the volume of his phone just to be sure, bracing himself before answering the call.

“Stark! Care to explain what the hell happened today?”


	5. The God of Thunder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki has a visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, first of all, thank you for reading this. :) Thanks to some lovely readers here and on ff.net and to my wonderful best friend who isn't even an Avengers fan, I now present to you.... THE PLOT. well, not now, but there WILL be more of a plot in the next chapters. This chapter is not exactly necessary for plot developement, but it is for character developement and I really wanted to write a conversation between Thor and Loki. (I almost got a Thorki fan when writing this XD).  
> So, I have roughly planned all chapters up to chapter eleven - this will be more or less he first part of this fanfiction, let's call it the introduction phase.  
> One more thing, I am a student, and it's June, which means the next couple of weeks will be a bit stressful and not really pleasant for me, I have 6 exams in the last week of June alone. So please, be patient, I will try to update weekly, but don't be mad if I don't make it.  
> So... here you go, the next chapter. Not exactly long, but I just can't write long chapters, live with it ;)

After Tony Stark’s mental breakdown, there is silence. The archer – Clint Barton, comes into the room, visibly irritated for a short moment, but aside from wrinkling his nose at Loki, there is no interaction between them.

After two days, the silence is slowly driving him mad. The people who are watching over him are taking shifts, and since Stark is seemingly not to be trusted with this task any more, there is a constant chance of four familiar faces: the beast, the one they call the ‘Captain’, the archer and the assassin. They change shift every three hours, which is something he has overheard them talking about when they locked him in, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to tell how long they were sitting on the chair next to the door – in the constantly bright light he has lost all of his sense of time.

Loki can recall a considerably large number of worse positions than the one he is in. The prison cells in Asgard are dark, wet and dirty and smell like rotten flesh and excrements. There is no difference between a highborn and a simple pickpocket in those cells. On Earth, or at least in this facility, everything is white and shiny. He is constantly watched, but at least he has a bed to sleep in – some small part of his dignity has to acknowledge it. Still, there is the silence that bothers him.

Asgardian prisons are never silent. There is moaning and screaming coming from every corner, the footsteps of the prison guards with their heavy boots echoing from the walls. Being in one of those cells himself, he had wanted nothing more than for the noise, the screaming, the calling for help to stop. But now, given silent treatment, in his head the moaning suddenly sounds like a pleasant song to him.

After three days of Banner – Rogers – Clint – Romanoff over and over again, he is sure that they don’t talk to him on purpose. He feels his patience shrinking with every minute that passes. Silence means there is nothing to distract him from his thoughts and the feeling of emptiness that has settled in after losing his power. He feels better now than a few days ago, but only marginally – every time he is subconsciously letting his mind reach out to observe his surroundings, instead of millions of ties and connections he can derive his knowledge from, there is nothing. When he closes his eyes, the only thing he feels is his heart pumping blood through his veins, the sound of his breathing and the faint buzz of electricity.

From the outside, he must seem perfectly still, but after about three and a half days he is struggling with himself. It has to be his mortality, for he hasn’t felt feelings like impatience or whatever it is he is feeling now in all those years since he has been born. Three days are nothing compared to the months he has spent chained, half kneeling and half sitting in the darkest corner of his small cell in Asgard. But he hasn’t been the same back then. Back then, Loki of Asgard hasn’t been the pitiful _human_ he is now. He has been _Jötunn_ , still something to despise, nothing to be proud of, but at least better than being mortal.

After the second day he has decided to not sleep anymore. Now, days later, after hours of being awake, he is tired and he can feel his eyes dropping every second that he doesn’t force them to stay open, but he can’t lose track on time more than he already has. The silence is slowly killing him, he is sure of that. He absent-mindedly trails the runes on his forearms – they have been healed by now – rubbing off the scab and dried blood. He has already noticed a few days ago that he can’t read them. It shouldn’t have come to a surprise for him – runes are pure magic and so is knowledge about their meaning. Nevertheless, looking at them and seeing nothing but interwoven patterns decorating his arms cause him another stab of pain. Almost everyone in Asgard is able to read them. It is just another small detail that makes him inferior.

On the fourth night – at least he believes it is night – his body doesn’t take the sleep deprivation anymore and so he drifts off after closing his eyes for a second too long. He dreams of music, of women with long, blond hair playing the harp when he was a child, of the foreign but beautiful music he has once listened to on one of his visits to Alfheim. Eventually, the music changes to sounds; the twittering of birds, horses, battle cries of fighters, the screaming of children separated from their parents. He dreams of the sound a blade makes when it cuts a body in two halves, of the rattling last breaths of a fallen warrior, the buzzing of lightning, the thunderous voice of Thor…

Thor. He blinks, lost for a moment when he is violently torn out of his dream. Something is different, but he can’t lay a finger on what exactly it is. The buzzing is the same, as is the light, which is almost blinding him. After an instant, though, he hears it. Voices.

“…really think this is a good idea?” This is Banner’s voice, he is sure about it. Loki sits up and turns around. The door is open, and he can see Banner standing with his back to him, talking calmly to someone. From what he can see, the man looks tense.

“I want to see my brother.” Thor. The last person he wants to see at the moment is speaking, no, almost roaring with anger.

“Thor, no need to yell. You just might want to talk to Fury before storming in here, I’m sure he will let you.” Banner takes a step backwards, grabbing the door with one hand.

“Nick Fury is in no position to decide if I am allowed to see him!” The thunderer grabs Banner’s shoulders and shoves him aside when he enters the room.

“Stop it,” Banner spits out when Thor still doesn’t loosen his grip and Loki is sure the skin of the human is coloring green. Thor eventually takes his hands off him, scowling at him.

“So he doesn’t want you to see him? Why is that so?” Banner breathes heavily, obviously fighting with himself.

He shrugs, still wearing a sullen look. “I do not know that.” He doesn’t look in Loki’s direction once.

“Fine, you’re already inside, don’t take too long, I’ll wait outside trying to calm down the other guy,” Banner sighs after a moment, still considerably green. Thor flashes him a smile, his face brightening.

The second the door closes, Thor turns around to him. “Brother! I am glad to see you.”

He comes closer to the cell, until one of his big, broad hands is touching the glass. Loki is still sitting on the bed on the opposite of the cell, not wanting to come any closer.

“Don’t call me that,” he whispers, after almost four days of not saying a word it comes out coarse and almost illegible.

“Do not call you what?” Thor ask, puzzled. On moments like this, Loki seriously questions Thor’s intellect.

“Don’t call me ‘brother’. I am no brother of yours.” His voice is trembling slightly, but he blames it on just having woken up. He crosses his arms. There it is, he can see it clearly in Thor’s eyes. Pity. Why can’t he just go again? He doesn’t need pity; he doesn’t need being looked at like some homeless child begging on the side of a road.

“We may not be brothers by blood, but I have thought of you as my brother for more than a thousand years and I will not stop now. You are my brother, Loki.”

“So you are willing to be brothers with a _Frost Giant_? With one of your enemies? After all the sorrow I have caused you, you are still willing to be my family? This may come as a surprise, but I don’t believe a word of it.” Still, there is the same pity in Thor’s eyes as moments ago. The thunder-god’s eyes have widened a bit, but other than that, Loki cannot find what he has thought he would find: hatred or disgust.

“Yes, I _am_ willing to be brothers with a Jötunn. You have made mistakes, Loki, but I have, too. But whatever you have done, there is no doubt that you are my brother, believe me.” Both of his hands are touching the glass now.

“We are akin, Loki. You are not the only one who has been punished for what he has done. I have endured something very similar.”

“If we are so similar, how come I cannot remember you being locked in a glass cell, being stared at like a dangerous animal? Odin may have taken away your hammer, but he has taken away my magic, my immortality, my dignity! What does he want from me? Does he want me to beg on my knees to change me back into a Jötunn? Does he want me to acknowledge his generosity of letting me live? He hates me. I have seen it in his eyes! I have been a constant disappointment for him! But why doesn’t he let keep me what is left of my dignity and sentence me to death? Why does he have to do this? Is it not sufficient to bring to my knowledge that I am not his son? Is the burden of my true heritage not enough of a torture? Even if he didn’t want to kill me, why didn’t he at least let me rot in prison?”

He must have stood up when yelling at Thor, as he is closer to him now, standing in the middle of his cell. He doesn’t look up to his opposite, instead he is staring at the floor. When there is no response, he eventually does look up. There is something else in Thor’s gaze now. And Loki knows what it is all too well. Guilt.

“What is it, Thor? Why are you looking like that?” His voice is harsher than he thought it would be and the thunderer flinches by the sound of it.

“I told him not to.”

“What did you just say.” There was a part of him hoping for his mortal ears to have misunderstood what just left the god of thunder’s mouth.

“I told him not to. Odin, _father_ , wanted you to be imprisoned for a thousand years to pay for your crimes. He then talked to me about you and I told him to ban you from Asgard, like he did with me. I told him that there is a possibility for you to change for the better, to eventually understand your crimes and to change your attitude. Your magic, as well as your immortality will be back, as soon as you are worthy of them again. It is only for your own good, brother.”

Rage flames up inside of him before he can even understand what Thor has just said.

“How could you? I understand what I have done, I understand that I have killed Frost giants and _humans_ but there is nothing that will change my attitude towards them, you know that. Is this why you told him to send me here? Because you know I will never be worthy of my magic again? So you know I will be living a miserable life as a mortal, unable to lay my hands on you? Long dead when you are eventually going to ascend the throne? So in the end, you will be the generous brother that only wanted the best for the pitiful abnormality that is me? The misfit who just couldn’t amend?”

Somehow, tears must have found their way into his eyes, because when he stops speaking, his cheeks are wet. Crying. As if being mortal and locked up isn’t already humiliating enough. He tries to bite back the tears, but they keep running down his cheeks nevertheless, so he just hides his face behind one of his hands, the other one clenched to a fist.

“No!” Thor is suddenly roaring, pressing his fists against the glass. “You misunderstand, brother. There is no doubt in me that you will better yourself. Humans are decent creatures, you only have to become acquainted with them. I will even help you, if you wish.”

“You are a fool, Thor, for thinking that anyone wants to be acquainted with the maniac who killed hundreds of their race. I have thought of you to be more intelligent, but then again, I have thought of you as my brother, and of Odin as my father. It seems that even the trickster can be deceived.”

With that, he turns around to his bed again, increasing the distance between him and Thor.

“I am no fool, Loki. You will see.” The thunderer’s voice is calm again and almost silent.

“Leave. Don’t come visit me again. I don’t need you and your pity.”

He turned around again after there is no reaction, but Thor is still standing on the same spot.

“I said leave.”

Thor doesn’t meet his eyes. Staring at the floor like that, he almost looks defeated, when he walks to the door.

“One more thing, brother. You didn’t answer this question at your trial, so I have been thinking about it. The Chitauri, did you alone lead them? Have you alone been behind the attack?”

He doesn’t want him to know.

“Do you think I am not capable of such a thing?”

“No, I have _hoped_ you were not.”

He doesn’t want to give Thor the satisfaction of telling him of the Mad Titan and all of his threats. He doesn’t want him to know that in fact, Loki probably wouldn’t have been capable of leading this army alone.

Thor doesn’t deserve to know.

So instead, he wipes his tears away and smiles sweetly, not malicious as usual.

“Well, _Thor_ , I hope I don’t disappoint you then. It has all been my doing and mine alone.”

There is a second of silence before the thunderer speaks again.

“Farewell, brother.”

It is strangely satisfying to see the disappointment on Thor’s face when he looks him in the eyes one last time before leaving the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, feed my muse, boost my ego, or just tell me how (if) you like it.


	6. Be Alright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Pepper have "the talk".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thanks you lovely people. Thanks to your reviews, I have lots of inspiration and produce one chapter after another even though there are a hundred things I should do instead.  
> This chapter broke my heart when writing it, but as my Beta (Anthony E. Stark - check her fanfiction out on ff.net) put it, it's "for the greater good".  
> Have fun reading it, and remember: Reviews feed my muse.

Tony hasn’t left his lab in days now. Frantically, he repairs his suit, runs a scan on JARVIS for the tenth time and works on minor improvements of his gauntlets – of course this is only the work of the last two hours. Sighing, he takes a sip of his coffee, but after being awake for days, caffeine probably won’t help fighting the tiredness any more.

“JARVIS, what time is it?”, he asks, yawning. He can hardly think straight anymore.

“Nine P.M., Sir.” Tony nods, taking another sip of his coffee. Even if it doesn’t fight the fatigue, it tastes great nevertheless.

“Sir, I would recommend you to go to sleep. You have been awake for almost sixty hours.” Sixty hours? Tony raises an eyebrow. It hasn’t felt like sixty hours, more like two. He once again attempts to take a sip of coffee, but his hands stop in mid-motion.

“JARVIS? Have I called Pepper back? Please tell me I have.”

“No, Sir, unfortunately not. You have been in the workshop since you have spoken to Mr. Fury, Sir.”

“Why haven’t you told me?” Tony hectically searches his desk for his mobile phone, but he can’t find it.

“Rule # 6, Sir.” Right. He slams the coffee mug back on the desk and proceeds towards the door. Sixty hours. Pepper will kill him.

“Tell Pepper she can meet me upstairs, if she still wants to.”

“Certainly, Sir.” He sighs and rolls his eyes at JARVIS’ mildly amused tone.

He had a very disturbing, but fortunately very short, phone conversation with Fury sixty hours ago. Someone must have told him about his panic attack, or he has seen it on the footage, and of course, Fury wouldn’t be Fury if he didn’t make inquiries.

Tony sighs when the door of the elevator opens.

He didn’t tell him. He didn’t tell him anything about the panic attacks, the nightmares, the hours he has spent in his workshop doing nothing but staring at the wall, immobilized with fear. For a second, he wanted to tell him, but as soon as he opened his mouth, he realized he couldn’t. No, nothing was wrong with him, it has just been a rough week and too much alcohol and relationship problems. This is what he told him. Tony stares at the door of the elevator stubbornly as soon as he is inside, not wanting to see his reflection in the mirror behind him. Fact is, he isn’t all right. Not at all. Those sixty hours that he has spent in his workshop without even thinking about going to sleep have been proof enough. He can’t even drink anymore, drinking makes his nightmares even more real, makes the green eyes even more greener and the malicious smile unbearable to look at.

His phone is lying untouched at the table in his kitchen, Tony can’t even remember putting it there. When he switches the screen on (thanks to revolutionary Stark Technology, its battery is almost full), there is an immense amount of unread messages, emails and missed calls. Bruce, Pepper, Fury, even Steve, have tried to reach him and Pepper has written more than one hateful message. Tony sighs again, browsing through the messages, deciding not to write back.

“Mrs. Potts is arriving in twenty minutes, Sir. I have to warn you, she did not sound pleased, rather the opposite.” The AI again sounds slightly amused.

“JARVIS, one day I will make you a human body and the ability to feel pain and then I will torture and kill you,” Tony mumbles, snorting.

“Whatever you wish, Sir.”

Twenty minutes. Time enough to get his thoughts straight. Tony rushed to the coffee maker to get another cup of coffee, just to be sure he isn’t going to fall asleep. When the hot liquid is steadily pouring into his mug, Tony feels the panic gaining control of his body again. This time it isn’t Loki, though, it’s Pepper. What will he be able to say to her? Will he be able to talk about all of this? He hopes so, but deep inside of him, he doubts it. Bruce has been the only person so far he has been able to talk to about his… issues. He doesn’t even know why, he’s only known the doc for about half a year now. Maybe that’s why – Bruce doesn’t know him _that_ well, he actually only really knows the post-New-York-incident-Tony that he is now, somehow broken and unsure. The one that doesn’t always have a snide remark to offer, the one that vanishes in his workshop for days, the one that has serious problems.

The coffee is left untouched when Pepper finally arrives. She is beautiful as usual, with her business clothes that make her seem even tougher than she already is. Her strawberry blonde hair rests loose on her shoulders and she is wearing the lipstick that Tony loves best on her. When she finally looks him in the eye, the toughness is gone. Her eyes have a hint of redness in them, so he figures that she has been crying recently. It makes him love her even more.

“Why haven’t you been calling, or even texting back? What do you think who you are, just not answering your phone for almost three days straight? Why did you do this? I really want to understand you, Tony, but sometimes you are making it incredibly hard for me to do so.”

Tony puts his hands up defensively. “I’m sure JARVIS has told you w-“

“JARVIS has told me you were ‘not available’ at the moment. I didn’t even know you were here in Stark Tower, otherwise I would have shown up at your workshop sooner or later. You could have been anywhere, I even contacted S.H.I.E.L.D. and Fury seems pretty upset with you, too, but he also didn’t know where you’ve been.”

“You contacted S.H.I.E.L.D.? That’s never a good idea.” Fury will be pissed… again. Tony closes his eyes for a second, taking a deep breath.

“I don’t want to talk about S.H.I.E.L.D., or the things you have invented, or JARVIS, or Dr. Banner or Thor, or whatever you use to talk about when things get too personal for you, Tony. I want to talk about us. Because that’s something I have wanted to do for months,” Pepper suddenly said after a minute of uncomfortable silence.

“Then go on, talk about us.”

“What is wrong with you, Tony?” She eyes him sternly, her hair falling in her face.

“I believe this belongs more into the ‘me’-section and less into the ‘us’-section.” But he cannot fool her. He can’t just _not_ tell her. She deserves to know.

“Right, where do I start?”

“You could start with what the hell you have thought you were doing when you were kicking me out of your room.”

Tony nods slowly. _He can’t._ He opens his mouth, closes it again, again takes a deep breath, but in his head, there is suddenly a deep, black void where once have been thoughts.

“Tony? Is… everything alright?” Pepper lays a hand on his forearm, bending towards him.

“No, it’s not. Nothing’s alright, Pep.” He leans a bit into Pepper’s touch, but refuses to look in her direction. How does he even begin?

“So… what is going on? You can tell me, you know.” She starts comforting him by brushing her thumb against his skin in circular motions, like she always does.

“Can we sit down first? I would really like to sit down.”

When they sit on the sofa, there is some space between them again and Tony regrets sitting down instantly. However, after a second, Pepper takes his hand and squeezes it reassuringly.

“Nightmares, insomnia, panic attacks. That’s what’s wrong with me.” There. He has said it, and it hasn’t even been too difficult.

“I know about the nightmares, but I thought they have stopped, what, four months ago? So, you mean to tell me they haven’t?” Her voice is upset, but she still holds his hand, and Tony can clearly hear the concern.

“They haven’t stopped. They have become worse. I can’t sleep anymore because of them. I have been up for almost sixty hours straight and I’m not even sure how this is possible, because before that I have already been up for god knows how long. I can’t function anymore, I really can’t. And it’s all getting worse because they have brought Loki back to S.H.I.E.L.D. and –“

“They have done _what_?”

“Loki’s back. Odin gave us Loki to take care of. He can’t use his magic but he’s a psychopath nevertheless. But that’s not all of it, we also have the Tesseract back and I’m really not sure if this has been a good idea.”

Pepper raises an eyebrow. “That’s bad. What are they even thinking? But… back to you. Why haven’t you told me about this?”

“Because it’s really hard to talk about. But, don’t worry about me, Pepper. Just don’t. It’ll go away. I’m sure of it. See? Now that we have talked about it I am feeling _much_ better.” He grins half-heartedly at her but she doesn’t smile back. Who is he even kidding?

“You know it doesn’t work that way. You should talk to someone about it.” She finally decides to take her hand away from Tony’s and crosses her arms.

“I am talking to someone about it right now. I’m talking to you.”

“You know exactly what I mean.” He does, but this doesn’t mean he wants to hear it. He has already said this to Bruce. He doesn’t want to talk to a professional. Tony Stark doesn’t need to psychological help.

“You know, we still haven’t talked about us,” he says, just to change the topic. For a moment, Pepper looks hurt, but then she gives him a tiny smile.

“I didn’t know what you are going through right now. I wouldn’t have said all this…”

Tony shakes his head and this time he is the one to grab Pepper’s hands.

“Don’t. You didn’t know, that’s the point. I don’t blame you for this, I can’t, because I am the one who didn’t tell you. So don’t regret the things you have said. Don’t regret any of it.”

Too late he notices that she is crying. He moves closer to her and she doesn’t recoil when he hugs her tightly.

“How can you do that? Talking about it like it is nothing? I broke up with you. I love you, Tony, I really do and this is so hard for me, because I don’t want to break up, but I have to, because you are a goddamn superhero and I am just some girl who wants to have a normal boyfriend, marry him someday, have kids… Every time you’re away on one of your missions I am waiting for someone to call me you haven’t made it. I can’t stand the thought of you getting killed or tortured someday. And since… whatever happened in New York, I know that it is only a matter of time until I am getting that call. You almost got killed that day. And it will not have been the last time, I’m sure of it. I thought I’m stronger than that, Tony, I really did, but I am so sorry that I’m not. I’m in constant fear about you, do you even know what I have gone through the last few days when no one knew where you’ve been? Do you understand that? Don’t do this again, ever. To anyone.”

“I won’t, I promise,” he whispers, just hugging her closer.

“I love you, Pepper.”

“I love you too, Tony, but that doesn’t change the fact that I can’t be with you anymore,” she mumbles, her words almost illegible.

“Okay.”

“Okay? This is your answer to all of it?”

“There is nothing I can do, Pepper. I can’t just stop being Iron Man. I can’t stop being an Avenger. And I can’t stop you from being afraid, even though I would really want to make this easier for you. So, yeah, okay. I will hate it for us not being together, but I will survive.”

There is a thought in a far corner of Tony’s mind, though. He _could_ give up on him being Iron Man. Maybe it would be for the better. He would be able to live a more or less trouble-free life with Pepper, back in Malibu or wherever she would like to live, he doesn’t care. He could. He even should. But at the same moment, Tony knows he can’t.

_You are nothing without your suit, Tony Stark._

So while Pepper is still crying silently, he is stroking her hair, trying to enjoy the moment they have together, as it will be one of their last.

Why isn’t he fighting for their relationship? Part of him is screaming in anger, while he is half sitting and half lying on the sofa, Pepper buried in his arms, trying to comfort her, but otherwise doing nothing. Why isn’t he already promising her to stay out of trouble? The old Tony would have won her back by now, he is sure. But the old Tony doesn’t exist anymore.

The new Tony is a broken man, unwilling to fight, _unable_ to do so. The new Tony is even glad Pepper broke up with him as he wouldn’t want her to see him like that, in his helpless and weak state.

So when Pepper’s tears cease to flow down her cheeks, he is genuinely smiling at her, even though his smile is sad.

“I better go now,” she whispers.

“Stay with me one last night,” he mumbles, still stroking her hair. But Pepper already sits up, moving away from him a bit.

“No, Tony. I can’t.”

“At least kiss me. One last time. I want to kiss you goodbye, Pepper.”

She shakes her head, her eyes still red from tears. “Tony… I really can’t. I need a clear cut. I’m sorry.”

“Can I at least hug you goodbye then?” _And smell your hair, and feel your body and touch you and lean on you one last time?_ He doesn’t add that.

She nods, so together they walk to the door.

“Are you going to be okay?” she asks, brushing her hand against his accidentally.

Honestly, he doesn’t know. There is too much in his head right now to know, but probably he isn’t going to be okay at all. Not in the near future, anyways.

“Is that it?” he asks instead. “You, leaving me, hiring some people to getting your things in a few days time and looking for a new job, preferably one that does not confront you with superheroes on a daily basis? Or… are you going to keep your job, staying friends with me or at least trying to?”

Pepper just shakes her head. She spreads her arms around him, hugging him close and there is so much more to this hug. He kisses her on the top of her head and hugs her back. So they are standing there, bodies pressing onto each other a little too close, both looking each other in the eyes longingly, but not moving.

“I don’t know what I am going to do. I have to think about it,” Pepper whispers, lying her head upon his shoulder.

“Okay,” he mumbles, sucking in her incredibly wonderful smell one last time.

“Promise me you’re going to be alright,” she says demandingly, loosening the hug.

“Only if you do the same.”

How could he ever be alright without her?

She only hints a smile. “I’m sorry, Tony.”

“I’m sorry, too.” Sorry for not being able to promise her he was going to be alright. Sorry for not trying harder, for not fighting for her. Sorry for not having told her about his panic attacks. Sorry for not being able to give up his life as Iron Man. Sorry for only realizing how much he loves her when it is too late.

When she closes the door behind her, he notices the tears that are falling down his cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For information on the latest updates and general Frostiron/Avengers/RDJ/Tom Hiddelston stuff, visit my tumblr: loki-is-our-king.tumblr.com
> 
> I'm awfully sorry this chapter has been Loki-free, he just doesn't fit in right now, but he'll be back, I promise.
> 
> Review plz!


	7. Bruce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce puts two and two together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. Once again, thank you for your wonderful reviews and all the Kudos and subscriptions and so on. I love you. This chapter is written in Bruce's POV. I hope you like it. :)

“So, your conversation is over?” Bruce asks when Thor angrily swifts out of the room they keep Loki in.

“My brother does not believe my words,” Thor just answers and passes by him, not deigning to look at him. Bruce just shrugs and opens the door again.

“Hey, have you seen Tony anywhere?” Bruce shouts over his shoulder, before Thor is out of sight. Thor stops, shaking his head and makes a few steps towards him.

“I have not seen the Man of Iron since the day of Loki’s arrival. I have thought he has been resigned from guarding Loki, for the Captain has told me he is feeling ill in my brother’s presence.”

Bruce nods. So there’s really no one who has any idea of where Tony is. Great. Still he puts a smile on his face, even if it is tiny. “Well then, thanks. Just tell me when you see him. _If_ you see him.”

Thor nods without saying anything. When he turns around, Bruce slips into the room, not quite ready to face Loki again, but on the other hand, he never is.

“Have I not spoken clearly enough? Do not dare to visit me again, bro-“

Loki, his eyes red-rimmed and his cheeks wet with tears, is looking at him and then after a short moment, is staring with his eyes wide open.

“Oh.”

Bruce says nothing, just gaping at the God of Mischief who has been so obviously crying. He swallows, digesting the sight. Loki doesn’t even make an effort of hiding his tears, or the traces they have left. He is staring at him, frowning and his nose wrinkled in disgust, as if Bruce were some kind of particularly ugly snail.

“So, um, I assume it hasn’t been the best of talks then?” Bruce stammers, not even knowing why he is trying to talk to Loki. It probably has something to do with the wild, mad gaze the god is mustering him with.

“Why would you want to know _that_ , mortal?” Loki hisses with a slightly rough voice. He doesn’t move, though, instead he is still standing in the middle of the cell, his arms on his side and his hands clenched into fists.

The doc suddenly realizes he is still standing halfway in the door and closes it hastily before sitting down on the chair next to it, which he regrets a second later, because Loki is even more intimidating when looking at him from a sitting position.

 _He is human, he can’t do anything_ , he tells himself and he knows that the other guy would greatly enjoy smashing him into the floor again, but this doesn’t mean that Loki’s presence doesn’t irritate him.

“Just as a conversation starter, I guess,” he mumbles and picks up the newspaper which is lying on the floor next to the chair since Clint put it there three shifts ago.

“After days of silent treatment?” Loki asks him and his lips curl up into an ugly smile. He is now looking at him challengingly, laughing silently.

“Since you have already talked to Thor, I see no point in it anymore,” Bruce states and wants to take it back an instant later. What is he doing? He is tempted to smack his head with his hand, but instead only pretends to read the newspaper and occasionally glances up to Loki.

He is definitely the wrong person for this job. If it wasn’t for the big guy, he would probably spend his life in a lab, not having contact with people that often, because truth to be told, he feels incredibly awkward with most human beings. Especially if they are maniac ex-gods.

From the corner of his eye, he can see Loki opening his mouth again, when his phone starts ringing. Thanking god, the universe, fate, or whatever there is to thank, Bruce darts an apologetic glance at Loki, whose facial expression changes from disgusted into irritated, and yanks his phone out of his pocket.

 _Tony_.

He stares at the display, but the name stays the same. Tony is calling. After days of absence, days in which Bruce tried to persuade JARVIS into telling him of Stark’s whereabouts, he has the nerve to call. All those days, Bruce had been fairly sure Tony just locked himself in his workshop, but with the security system Tony has put all over Stark Tower, there is no way of telling, as most of the floors are accessible only for Stark alone, even Pepper can’t get in his lab if Tony doesn’t want her to.

When the name still stays the same, Bruce finally picks up.

“Tony? You’re alive,” Bruce mutters, not quite sure of what to say.

“Yeah, sorry bud, I… kinda forgot to call you. I had work to do.” Tony laughs, but his laugh sound, as if he is forcing it.

“For two and a half days non-stop? Are you alright?”

“This is why I am calling, actually. Could you come? I could really use your company right now.”

Oh, this is where it is going. Bruce closes his eyes. Ever since he met the billionaire playboy, there has been kind of a connection between them and now, after some months, one could almost say they are friends, or at least close to friends. So, even if he is really pissed at him right now for not hearing a word of him for more than two days, he knows he can’t say no to him. In the last couple of months, Tony has been more than generous – thanks to him, Bruce now owns a flat bigger than he needs – and even if Bruce actually has never wanted to live in New York City, he is thankful for that nevertheless. So all he does is glancing at his watch and sighing inwardly.

“My shift ends in twenty minutes, so I guess I could show up in about forty. Anything you need?”

“No, just for you to show up as soon as possible, but thanks.” If this wasn’t Tony Stark on the line, Bruce would say he could hear sobbing. But that can’t be. Tony may be really fucked up lately, with all his anxiety stuff going on, but he wouldn’t _sob_ , would he?

“Is everything alright?” he asks again, just to be sure.

“No, nothing’s alright. So please, just come here as fast as you can. I’ll try to not drink myself into oblivion until then.” Before Bruce has the chance to speak, Tony hangs up.

“So, behind his faux grins and snide remarks, the Man of Iron seems to be weak after all,” Loki muses suddenly, smirking again.

“This is none of your concern.” Bruce forces himself to keep his eyes locked onto the newspaper. This man is creeping him out, with his chilling voice and his malicious smirks.

“And I have thought, from what I have overheard, that I am the source of his anxiety? Would this not make it my concern?”

“Who has told you that?” Bruce asks, suddenly alert. In the last couple of days, no one has spoken a word to Loki and what the god just said sounded like more than the sheer assumption based on his and Tony’s encounter two days ago.

“You just have. You are about as hard to read as an open book, Dr. Banner. And I tend to be very attentive of my surroundings.” His smile is all teeth, making him look predatory and dangerous.

“So what did you do to him?” He feels the anger coming up and is trying the best to suppress it. A look at his hands tells him that his fingertips are already beginning to color green and Loki, while still smirking, puts his hands up defiantly and makes a few steps backwards.

“Why would I have done anything of harm to the glorious Iron Man?”

“You have thrown him out of a window,” Bruce growls, still trying to force the Hulk back into a far corner of his mind, but the other guy doesn’t seem to give up without a fight.

“True. But other than that, I would not seem to recall having him caused any inconvenience.” Loki still smirks at him, which makes the Hulk only roar louder, but Bruce beats him back and locks him up again.

Panting, he stares at Loki, still half-blinded by rage.

“You are the reason he is completely fucked up! It’s your fault he hardly keeps himself together anymore!” Having said that, he immediately knows that this has been a bad idea, but seriously, no one can judge him of making bad decisions right after almost changing into the rage monster. He looks at his wristwatch – his shift is as good as over, so his battle with himself must have taken longer than he has thought. Sighing, he picks up the newspaper and walks up to the door.

“It seems like I am always the one at fault, doesn’t it.”

He shoots a final glance in Loki’s direction, again receiving nothing but a smirk, before he walks out to the hallway, where Steve is already waiting for him.

Twenty minutes later, he finds himself in Tony’s living room.

“So, what’s the problem?” he asks, when he finds Tony curled onto his sofa, watching TV, a seemingly untouched bottle of whiskey beneath him. He looks miserable, with big bags under his eyes, his hair unkempt and scruffy and judging from the stubble on his cheeks, he hasn’t bothered to look into a mirror lately.

“It’s getting worse. I’m so incredibly tired, Bruce, but I’m afraid of closing my eyes for too long. And… Pepper was here. She broke up with me. Well, actually she broke up with me at the beginning of the week, but she wanted to talk to me about it and I really thought I was okay with it, but I am not. She’s the only person I have ever really, truly loved and she’s gone now and I’m falling apart. I don’t even recognize myself anymore. I don’t know what’s wrong with me – is this some sort of weird midlife crisis?”

Bruce sits down beside him and puts an arm on Tony’s shoulder. There is not much he can do about Tony feeling awful, even though he would like to help him.

“Maybe it is a midlife crisis. Maybe it would do you well to spend some time in Malibu, far away from all those memories? Or somewhere else entirely?”

But Tony only shakes his head. “I can’t go back to Malibu. Bruce, I can’t be alone at the moment, so Malibu is out of the question.” He sighs, tiredly smiling and closing his eyes for a second.

“She doesn’t want to lose me, so she broke up with me. She is afraid that one day, I won’t make it out of a battle, that one day my suit isn’t enough protection.”

“She has a point, though”, Bruce says, not thinking. When he notices Tony’s hurt look, he curses himself for being so tactless. It’s a habit he has grown used to during his stay with Tony.

“I know. This is what hurts me the most. I can understand her. She never asked me to choose between her and Iron Man. I know she wanted me to choose, and I know she knows that I know, but she didn’t say it out loud. I’m thankful for that, because when we talked I realized that I couldn’t choose her. Not at the moment.”

“That’s probably because you _are_ Iron Man. It’s your identity.”

Tony shakes his head again. “All those years I have asked myself every now and then if I could let go of Iron Man. I never wanted to let go, but I would have been able to do so. But now, I can’t. It’s the only thing that holds me together. There’s a voice in my head that constantly tells me that I am nothing without the suit and I’m starting to believe it. I’ve never been afraid of much, but now I am afraid of everything, but most of all of myself. And it terrifies me. I don’t know who I am anymore, so the Iron Man is the only thing left, the one thing I can identify myself with, the only thing left that hasn’t changed about me.”

Tony suddenly looks incredibly vulnerable, a sight Bruce doesn’t want to get used to. Like so many times, he doesn’t know what to say, so he pulls the other man into a tight hug.

“It’s going to be alright, okay? Everything is going to be alright.”

“This isn’t just panic attacks any more. I can feel Loki’s presence. I can feel him walking up and down in his prison cell in S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ. I can feel him being angry and this feeling is getting stronger with every minute. It started about two hours ago, when Pepper left and it just won’t stop. That’s not just anxiety. I’m going insane. Maybe I already am insane.”

“You _feel_ his presence?” Bruce blurts out, unable to digest what he has just heard.

“Like I’m Harry-fucking-Potter and he is goddamn Lord Voldemort. My brain tends to play tricks on me all the time lately, but this is the worst so far. I’m fucking hallucinating.”

It doesn’t make sense to him. He knows that hallucinations are possible when experiencing post traumatic stress, but something seems terribly off with all of this. It is all happening too fast. It started with _nightmares_ , and now Tony is hallucinating? Just… what if he isn’t hallucinating? What if all those symptoms he shows have a different cause? Suddenly, something clicks in his head. Right after the battle, Tony has told them about his little scene with Loki that resulted in being thrown out of the window by the God of Mischief. If Bruce recalls it correctly, Loki wanted to cast a spell upon Tony, which hasn’t worked because of the arc reactor.

He looks at Tony, or the shivering, pale and miserable human being that he is right now, that bares almost no resemblance with the genius-billionaire-playboy-philanthropist Tony has been not too long ago. Could it be…? Is it too far-fetched?

“Tony… with all this weird alien shit we have been going through… could it be that Loki has, ehm… _cursed_ you during the battle?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Review, plz?  
> For news about my fanfiction, Frostiron, Tom Hiddleston, Avengers, Harry Potter, Sherlock (but mostly Tom Hiddleston), visit my tumblr: loki-is-our-king.tumblr.com


	8. Green Rage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Further relevations and some hulking out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry guys. I haven't been able to write, and I didn't quite know how to write this chapter. In the future, I will update about once a week, this should be time enough for me to post regularly. Thanks for feedback in advance, I really need to know what you think of this one, I'm not quite sure about it myself.

It has been a long night, which is why Bruce isn’t exactly sure why he is already awake when he stares at his wristwatch. It’s only six o’clock, which means there’s plenty of time left until his next shift starts. He tries to close his eyes again, but now that he is awake, he can’t find a comfortable sleeping position any more. Next to him, he can feel Tony stirring – they must have fallen asleep on Tony’s huge sofa after talking about all the possibilities and eventualities of the curse. Even though it was Bruce’s idea, he is not completely convinced of Stark being cursed, but nevertheless, it’s worth examining.

“Are you awake?” Bruce tilts his head to see Tony sitting cross-legged on the sofa, looking extremely tired.

“Why are you up already?”

“Didn’t get more than two hours of sleep after my nightmares started again. I’m impressed you didn’t hear anything, I think I may have screamed once or twice.”

“So you must have been awake for… what, three hours? What have you done all this time?” Bruce rubs his eyes, his head pounding. He isn’t used to not sleeping less than seven hours, but compared to Tony he must look well-rested.

“I have hacked myself into S.H.I.E.L.D. a few months ago and have stolen the blueprints of their magic-tracker, in case I would need one someday, because unfortunately, S.H.I.E.L.D. is one step ahead of me when it comes to magic tracing devices. But only because they could extract much information about the Tesseract and some other things I don’t even want to know. Well, today’s the day I need the thing, and since I had already started building it, I could already finish it. I just returned, so I guess this is what woke you up.”

Bruce skeptically raises an eyebrow. It is typical of Tony to hack into S.H.I.E.L.D., but he normally doesn’t seem the type of guy who “Why – why did you need to build it yourself? You could have gone to Fury, talk to him and –“

“ _NO_.” Tony’s voice suddenly sounds deeper and colder than normal and a shiver runs down Bruce’s spine when he hears it. The voice doesn’t sound like Tony at all, but it must have left his mouth, he saw Tony’s lips forming the word. Something about the voice instantly tells Bruce to not further comment on this topic. He can’t lay a finger on what it is, but Tony’s presence now feels uncomfortable, something about him has changed, shifted, from one second to the other.

“Come on, I’ll show you,” Tony says all of a sudden, jumping up from the sofa.

Five minutes later, Bruce finds himself in Tony’s workshop, which he would normally count as a privilege, but not at half past seven in the morning. Stark seems normal again, babbling about a million unimportant things and randomly trying to conceal the chaos in his workshop. He shoves some unfinished designs in one of the drawers and then puts a small silver box in front of Bruce’s nose. There are a number of openings on the box and more cables than he can count, and Tony starts to connect a part of them to one of the computers.

“It is only a prototype right now, and it’s too primitive for my liking, but it should work.” He types a few commands on his keyboard and some kind of analytical software shows up.

“So… with this software here we can hopefully find out what’s wrong with me. If I have understood correctly, there is some small portion of magic in all of us, or should I say in everything, this should create some tiny fluctuations, but we should be able to tell the difference. It’s actually really interesting how this thing works and, to be honest, without all the information from the Tesseract, it would have taken me at least some more months. I have the blueprints here if you want to have a look at them; it’s fascinating, really simple but incredibly fascinating.”

Bruce shakes his head. “Not now. I’m not even awake.”

Tony just shrugs, unbuttoning his shirt and starts hooking himself up to the machine with the help of a whole bunch of electrodes – he puts most of them on his chest and his head – and sits down on one of the chairs.

“You have to take out my arc reactor. I haven’t had time to test if the arc reactor would have any effects on the outcome, so I think it’s best if I take it out.” He proceeds with sticking some more electrodes onto his body, and then he lets himself sink back into the chair.

“Just… twist it counterclockwise, so that you can pull it out and put it back inside as soon as the scan is over. It’s better if you do it, so I have to move as little as possible.”

Bruce still doesn’t get why Tony insists on doing this here, in his lab, instead of letting S.H.I.E.L.D. take care of it.

“Twist and pull,” Tony mumbled sleepily. The longer he sits in the chair, the more relaxed he seems to be, but most of all he looks tired, with the bags under his eyes, the stubble and the scruffy, unkempt hair.

“Twist and pull.” Bruce gently lays his hand upon the glowing circle in Tony’s chest, surprised at the coolness of the metal. Cautiously, he twists it a bit to the left, until he hears the ‘clack’ the unlocking mechanism makes, and starts pulling it out.

There are several things that happen at once.

The cool metal in his hand suddenly feels incredibly cold, cooler than ice, the cold is crawling up his fingers his hand, his arm, and as much as Bruce would like to let go of the arc reactor, he can’t, his fingers won’t move. In shock and disbelief, he stares down on his hand strangely infolded with a wavering, blue substance that is spreading alarmingly fast. A sharp pain flashed through his arm and he realizes that it is Tony’s hand, clinging on him with a firm grip. Tony is staring wide-eyed at him, his mouth open slightly. He doesn’t move, he just intensifies the grip around Bruce’s arm.

“Put… it… back in,” Tony whispers, his voice cracked and hoarse. His fingers dig into his forearm, hurting him, but he can’t possibly move his arm, and it is cold, so unbelievably cold, and Tony looks up at him in horror.

“Green,” he spits out, obviously in pain. And he understands.

_Don’t come out now, please, stay inside of me. You will make everything much worse._

His fingertips are slowly turning green, one by one. Whatever it is that has his hand frozen in mid-air, it slows down his transition, but not by much.

“Tony,” he presses, his voice doesn’t want to obey him anymore, “take… it. Can’t move. Now!” The green is spreading and his limbs are stretching, growing broader and longer, his muscles are hardening, and the anger, which is locked up in a faraway corner of his mind, is steadily growing, filling up the little prison he has constructed in his mind. Not long, and it will break free.

Everything is happening in slow motion now. Tony, his teeth clenched together, is forcefully trying to remove his hand from Bruce’s arm, hissing in pain with every movement. He moves slowly – too slowly, and even though Bruce does all he can to stop the anger, to fight back the green, the other guy is stronger. His vision gets blurry, when he gradually loses his consciousness. The Hulk is taking over soon.

Tony uses his other hand now to wrest the arc reactor from Bruce’s – no – the Hulk’s big, green, frozen hand, breathing heavily. He feels his shirt ripping apart, when he slowly gains in height.

“JARVIS, Code Red!” he screams out, biting his lip when the arc reactor sends a wave of bright blue energy at him. Finally, it slips out of Bruce’s – the Hulk’s – hand, into Tony’s.

There are things that irritate the Hulk, such as loud noises, like cars and screaming people. Or alarms. But code red contains an alarm. So whatever control Bruce has had over the Hulk, it is gone the minute the alarm goes off, and with it a red blinking light. For a second, he is fascinated by the red blinking, his eyes searching the room for the source, but the fascination only lasts until he registers a movement from the corner of his eye. It’s the mechanic. The man with the shiny suit, breathing heavily, is pushing his chair back. He holds up his hands in defense, smiling a nervous smile, but this is the same man that has just frozen his arm, so a smile means nothing to him.

“JARVIS, the suit!” The tin-man pulls of the strange cables that are glued on his skin, one by one, in thoughtful, not-too-fast movement. He looks the Hulk directly in the eyes, grinning, and with every second that passes his grin becomes less frightened and more sincere.

_Bruce says it’s a friend. You can’t hurt a friend._

_But he hurt him. He can’t hurt him, you have to protect him._

Inside of him, Bruce is fighting to come back, but it’s not time yet. Not before he hasn’t figured out what to do with the metal man.

Something shiny flies across the room, and then another thing and another. Irritated, he moves his head, looks around for the source, because some of the pieces even hit him, but whatever it is, his fist is too slow for the shiny things to catch them. When he turns around in resignation, the metal man stands before him in his suit.

“Bruce, I know you’re in there. Come out again. And try not ruining my lab.”

“You hurt him,” the Hulk growls, his back aching from the awkward position he is in – the ceiling is far too low for him to stand straight.

“Oh come one, that wasn’t me!” The man in the metal suit sounds nervous again. And he doesn’t believe him – he has felt the cold. So the Hulk does the only right thing in this moment and punches the metal man right in the face. It isn’t a particularly hard punch, as he knows that humans are fragile and Bruce would probably be sad if he punched him too hard, but nevertheless it sends the metal man flying across the room, only being stopped by the white-shining round things on his soles and hands.

“Hulk, don’t! Please, let Bruce out again. I need him right now. Please, Hulk.” Tin-man is hovering a few centimeters from the floor, waiting for a reaction.

He doesn’t want Bruce to be back. He has far too little possibilities to come out of the corner of Bruce’s mind, and every time he gets out, there is fighting and battling and this is what makes him even angrier than he is. Now there is only the metal man and the alarm, in comparison to what he usually sees when he comes out, this is peaceful.

The metal man stands on the ground again, still seeming uncertain of what to do. “Hear me out. This is not the right place for you, this is a lab, and you’re a fucking giant, and you have already destroyed a few months of work by simply standing there. Let Bruce take control again. I need Bruce.”

Tin-man’s face is white and his eyes are glassy. “Please, I… need Bruce. Now. Hulk, come on.” He lets himself slide into one of the chairs, directly in front of him.

It’s not something he has seen humans do often – most of them are running away from him. Only the man with the strange suit who is called ‘Captain’ and the guy with the long hair and the hammer are not afraid of him, but the tin-man even seems friendly.

“You alright?” he asks tin-man, just to be sure. The human seems to be in pain, but he can’t remember having hurt him.

Tin-man shakes his head, his teeth clenched. “That’s why I need Bruce.” He tilts his head to the side, breathing heavily. “JARVIS, call S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“They are already on their way, Sir. You have already called Code Red.”

“Oh, have I? Hulk, please.”

Where was the voice coming from? He turns his head, but nothing’s there. He stares again at the human, who by now has taken off parts of his armor and clutches his chest. He _really_ wants to stay. But the human is Bruce’s friend, isn’t he?

“Don’t hurt him again,” he growls, after he has made his decision. He slowly slips back into the darkness, unsatisfied because he couldn’t break things this time, when he hears the tin-man’s reply.

“I won’t, don’t worry.”

\-----

It takes long for Bruce to wake up again, and when he does so, he notices that someone must have covered him up with a blanket. What the hell has happened? He isn’t quite sure anymore, but there has been something with Tony’s lab and his arc reactor and _magic_ – and the Hulk. Oh fuck. He wants to open his eyes, but his head hurts, and his body doesn’t seem to fully oblige him.

There are voices around him, shouting, and one is definitely belonging to Fury.

“…couldn’t have told me?”

“I didn’t know there would be some creepy blue magic coming out of my chest and almost freezing Bruce’s hand of!” This is Tony’s voice, too loud and too near. Bruce growls, rubbing his eyes.

“Yes, you didn’t know. You saw what Loki is capable of, and when there’s only the slightest chance of him manipulating you with his magic, it is your duty to tell me!”

“Since when am I obligated to tell you anything? You didn’t tell us the Tesseract and Loki are coming back either. I would have voted against it, and I’m still not sure what is worse – the chaos god himself or a fucking tool to produce weapons!”

“Stark, sit down again!” Fury’s voice resounds in Bruce’s had, making him cringe. Obviously, none of them have noticed him stirring.

“Oh, actually, I’m feeling _much_ better already. Don’t tell me what to do or not to do! It is absolutely _none_ of your business!”

“Stark,” Fury says again, this time calmly, “sit down. You look like shit. I don’t want you to collapse in front of me. And for your interest, it became my business the minute your arc reactor almost froze Bruce’s hand off. There is something wrong with you, it most probably has something to do with Loki and therefore it is _my business_. You’re a ticking time bomb.”

“Fine. It’s your business, so what? What do you want to do now?” Tony still sounds alarmingly aggressive, something not especially typical for him.

“We are going to wait until Bruce wakes up and then you two are going to pack your things. You’re going to spend a few days at the headquarters and we’re figuring things out. You’re going to be alright, Stark, but you have to trust me.”

“I am awake, actually,” Bruce mutters, sitting up and opening his eyes. For a moment he is thankful that the lab is rather dim lit. “Does anyone care to fill me in on what has happened?”

He blinks and takes a look at the room around him. There is no real damage – a table is knocked over, but other than that he couldn't quite believe the Hulk has been in here. His eyes lay on Tony for a second, and the sight of him makes him furrow his brows. Tony looks awful. His skin is pale and sweat is dripping off his forehead.

“Nothing, really. You hulked out and me and rage monster had a conversation. He tried to punch me across the room, but other than that, no harm done.”

Tony grins, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes and Bruce nods understandingly when they lock eyes.

“So, S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ is it then?” To be honest, he is glad about it. There’s something seriously wrong with Tony and it’s bigger than them. It’s nothing the two of them can figure out alone in his lab.

“I have never agreed to that one.” Tony crosses his arms and squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, probably in pain again.

“Tony. Don’t.” _Just go with them. It’s probably for your best._

“Fine.”

He stands up, cringing again when his weight shifts, but he covers it up with a broad smile in Fury’s direction. He slowly walks to the elevator, turning around to wait for Bruce, who tries to cover himself up with the blanket when he follows.

“I’ll be waiting for you,” Fury tells them and strides out of the lab, before the doors of the elevator close.

 

“Did I hurt you? I mean, whatever this was,” is the first question Bruce is confronted with. Tony is leaning against the wall, still flinching every time he takes a too deep breath.

“No, there’s nothing wrong with me. But what about you?”

Instead of an answer, Tony holds out his hand and Bruce grabs it instinctively. It’s freezing cold, literally like touching an ice cube.

“What is this?” Bruce asks after letting go of Tony’s hand.

“I have no idea. It’s getting better, but… it hurts. I don’t even quite know where the pain comes from. What was this, Bruce? What the hell was this?”

Bruce shakes his head, not knowing. There’s a moment of silence between them, until Bruce asks something he had in mind since he has woken up.

“When was the last time you have taken out your arc reactor, since… New York?”

Tony stares at him for a second, then his eyes widen.

“I… haven’t. I haven’t taken it out in over four months.” His mouth is slightly open and his eyes are staring at Bruce angst-ridden.

And Bruce doesn’t know what is more frightening. The fact that the theory about Tony being cursed is probably true or the pure horror in his friend’s eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews, please? :)


	9. Experiments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony is on his way do S.H.I.E.L.D.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaand another one. I have given up sticking to my plans, at least for the next couple of chapters. Sorry, again no Loki in this one, he'll be back. ;)  
> I have no idea why, but I can't upload the cover. :(

The pain is somehow familiar, but then again it’s not. It doesn’t quite feel like it is his anymore, not like moments before. He is pretty sure by now that it has been magic, sure for various reasons that he would like to forget. The pain doesn’t let him forget, though even if it has worn off a bit by now. It is still there, lingering in his chest, compressing his lungs, so that every time he takes a breath, it explodes again, all over his body, letting it seem as if his skin is on fire, as if his ribs are cracking, one by one, as if his lungs are torn apart. So Tony tries to breathe as little as possible, when he climbs into the van behind Bruce. As soon as he sits, exhaustion is flooding over him, and he gives in to it, as it dulls the ache of his chest. Within minutes, he dozes off, lulled in the constant humming of the van’s engine. For a short moment, he feels almost peaceful as long as he doesn’t think of what has happened.

The peace doesn’t last long, however, and he feels himself torn back into reality when Bruce is speaking next to him. He is obviously trying to keep his voice low, trying not to wake him, so Tony doesn’t move and keeps his eyes closed.

“What are you going to do to him?” Bruce asks, sounding concerned, as usual, like every time he speaks about him.

“Whatever we have to do to get this fucking magic out of him. To be honest, I don’t know.” Fury’s voice is calm, the anger is gone completely. Tony smirks slightly– the Fury he knows lives up to his name all the time, but it might be his fault. Tony is known for making people aggressive on a daily basis. This Fury, however, seems to share Bruce’s concern, which is outright astonishing.

“You can’t hurt him. He’s experienced enough pain for today.”

“I’m doing what I can, but… I can’t promise that. The machinery we have is much more elaborated than what Stark has put together in a couple of hours, but nevertheless we have to find out whatever it is that has almost frozen your arm and I am not sure about whether it can be done without separately examining his arc reactor. So, the point is, I wouldn’t exactly count on him being not in pain.”

“But examining what causes all of this is not everything. “

“No it definitely isn’t.”

“So, what are you going to do? Do you have a plan or is Tony just going to play guinea pig until you have come up with something?”

“I do have a plan. Saving his fucking ass. That’s my plan and if that includes him playing guinea pig, than I have no problem with that, as long as we the magic out of him. I care about this self-centered, arrogant bastard, but he’s a danger to us and to himself right now and I sense it’s not going to be easy or pleasant for him.”

_He cares about him_. Tony is already half asleep again, so he isn’t sure if he’s awake or dreaming right now and before he can think about it any longer, the tiredness finally overpowers him.

He jumps awake when someone gently touches his shoulder.

“We’re here, get out of the car,” Bruce mumbles, smiling calmingly.

His feet won’t quite obey him, when he gets up, and he has to cling to Bruce. His knees feel like jelly and his body as if he has just gained a couple of hundred pounds. At least the pain in his chest is mostly gone, but other than that he can’t remember when the last time has been that he has felt so weak and shitty. Even his brain doesn’t exactly run at full speed, everything happens in a blur, so when they reach the S.H.I.E.L.D. labs, for a moment he wonders how they have even got there.

The only feeling prominent enough to assure him he is not dreaming is the fear lingering in a dark corner of his brain and constantly spreading out. The fear that, this whole time, all these months, he has been manipulated of some sorts – that there is something inside him that clearly doesn’t want him to take out his arc reactor, something that has clouded his thoughts ever since, something that has infected him with uncontrollable, unreasonable fear.

_Loki, what the fuck have you done to me?_

The room he finds himself in disturbingly looks like a hospital. A men and a woman, both dressed like doctors, approach him and smile at him reassuringly. Tony reluctantly lets go of Bruce when they attempt to lead him to a bed in the far corner of the room.

“Mr. Stark,” the woman begins when he sits down on the bed, “we need you to tell us exactly what has happened over the past few months and especially today. We will need as much information as possible, so please try to be precise.”

Tony nods numbly and presses his fingers onto his temples, trying to think straight. Everything seems to be unreal; the colors are too bright and blurring into each other. He feels like his head is in a bubble, cut off from the outside world, like there’s a barrier between him and the rest of the world.

“It all began a few days after the New York incident, after I had finally time for myself. I had nightmares – nothing worrying, given what had happened that day. At first… at first I had random dreams about the Chitauri, Loki, flying into the wormhole – but after some days, or weeks, I’m not really sure about that, Loki became more and more prominent in my dreams. After some months I was pretty sure the dreams were getting less and less, but… when Loki has been brought back, they were coming back. Ever since Loki is here, there’s not just nightmares, I’ve been experiencing panic attacks, even some kind of hallucinations – or, I’m not even sure if I am hallucinating any more, but I feel like I am linked to him in some weird kind of way. I feel his presence since yesterday evening, I feel him lingering in his cell, being angry at everyone, mostly Thor, and after what has happened today I’m not exactly sure I’m imagining things anymore. And… there is this fear. I feel it all the time, I don’t know if I’m afraid of Loki, or something else, or if it is even my fear.”

“What are those dreams about, Mr. Stark?” The man is keying things into the computer behind him as he speaks. Tony closes his eyes for a moment, wishing for the blurs and too vibrant colors to go away, but when he opens them again, everything is the same. He is still in this unbelievably white, sparsely decorated room, Bruce is still standing in the corner, obviously not knowing if he should leave or stay.

_Don’t leave me alone here. Stay where you are._

He hates being so vulnerable, so not himself. Tony Stark isn’t weak. Tony Stark doesn’t need to rely on other people, thank you very much, he can care for himself. He doesn’t need to cling on people, to rely on them; he doesn’t need others to remind him of who he is. Tony Stark knows who he is. Except that he doesn’t.

So when he goes on speaking, he locks his eyes with Bruce’s, who smiles reassuringly and it’s this smile that keeps him from breaking when he is forced to relive his memories again.

“Most of the time, I’m in Stark Tower and Loki is telling me to kneel, sometimes I am already kneeling. Sometimes he duplicates, sometimes he throws me out of the window, or tries to kill me in other ways. Sometimes I can only see his eyes, or I can only hear his voice. Or his laugh. But… almost every time he is telling me that I’m worthless and that I am weak.”

His voice hasn’t been more than a whisper, but nevertheless it has been loud compared to the silence that surrounds him, only interrupted by the humming of the computer and the sound of typing. For a few moments, none of the – doctors? – S.H.I.E.L.D. agents? – says anything, until the woman clears her throat.

“So… could you please tell us about today’s events? I believe you have been attempting to find any traces of magic inside of you, is that right?”

He nods.

“Bruce wanted me to go to S.H.I.E.L.D. right away, but I – or better something inside of me, I’m not even sure if it was me – didn’t want to. So, yeah, basically I’ve been working on this magic tracker and I wanted to try it out first thing in the morning. So… I told Bruce to take out my arc reactor and the second he pulled it out, this weird blue energy burst out of me. It apparently froze his arm.”

“How did you experience this outburst of energy?”

“It hurt. It felt like something exploding inside of me, I couldn’t breathe anymore, it felt like it was burning my skin… but… there was something else. It was afraid. I can’t exactly describe what I’ve felt but whatever this energy was, I think I’m its host, it needs me – so it tried to defend me, it wanted to go back into my body. It’s weaker now, actually. It’s hurt, I think that’s why I’m in pain – I feel like something ripped me apart, and I think it’s… the magic that has been ripped apart and the pain is transferred onto me.”

The two doctors nod in unison and leave the room for a while, so it’s just him and Bruce. After a moment of hesitation, Bruce comes near and places himself onto a stool next to the bed.

“So what you’ve been saying is that the magic, or whatever it is, is actually alive? And it has feelings?”

Tony nods. “That’s what it feels like, at least. Or close to that, to be honest, I can’t really describe what I’m feeling, this is as close as it gets.”

He closes his eyes and lets himself fall onto the bed. It’s hard, much less comfortable than his bed at home, but he’s so incredibly tired and exhausted that he almost falls asleep when his head hits the pillow. Nevertheless he forces himself to open his eyes again – he is sure S.H.I.E.L.D. wouldn’t waste any time on him, so the doctors or whatever they are will be back soon for sure.

“What are they going to do with me?” he asks Bruce sleepily, for the sake of staying awake.

“They will test you. You and the arc reactor, probably they will have to do it separately. If there’s magic inside of you, they will probably try to find out if it matches with Loki’s magic – Fury has told me they have been able to monitor his magic when he first arrived here. I’m not sure how they did it, but Fury hinted that this is not the first time S.H.I.E.L.D. had to deal with magic. I think I don’t want to know.”

“So… if this is Loki’s magic, what are they going to do?”

Bruce just shrugs. “I don’t know. They’ll probably check again if Loki really doesn’t have any access to his magic, just to make sure that he’s not currently manipulating you. Maybe they’ll talk to Asgard. Thor might be able to help with that– maybe there’s some Asgardian mage who can lift the spell, or whatever it is, from you.”

_What if Loki is the only one who can lift the spell from him?_ Tony wants to ask, but the doctors are already back.

Fifteen minutes later he sits on a rather comfortable chair, his body wired. Various electrodes have been glued onto him, all of them linked to the magic tracker, which definitely looks more elaborate than the prototype he has built. Several S.H.I.E.L.D. agents surround him, most of them either staring at him or at one of the screens on the walls with interest. One of the walls is made out of glass, and he can see Fury and Bruce standing behind it, watching him tensely. He doesn’t know if the other Avengers are with them – the screens are blocking his sight.

“Mr. Stark, for the first test, your arc reactor stays where it is. You shouldn’t feel much, if anything.”

Tony nods, getting tense. He knows this is necessary, but the energy, the magic inside of him is screaming angrily. Tony closes his eyes and feels the fear it is in, the fear that doesn’t quite belong to him, but more and more merges with his own sentiments with every minute that passes.

In the end, he doesn’t feel anything, not that he has thought otherwise. Astonished, he looks at one of the screens, not quite believing that what it shows really is the amount of magic inside of him.

“This shouldn’t even be possible,” one of the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents blurts out, causing another one to scold him.

No, it shouldn’t, the guy is right. Tony is not an expert when it comes to magic, he had far too little time to occupy himself with studying it, but from what he knows, and especially from what he sees in the graph that shows up at one of the screens, the level of magic inside of him is exuberant.

“Agent Sanders, match the magic with all the probes we have. We have to make sure he is not mind-controlled,” a stern-looking woman in S.H.I.E.L.D. uniform bellows.

Where do they even have all the probes from?

“It’s a definite match with Loki’s magic, but nothing indicates he is being mind-controlled. We kept record of Agent Barton’s and Dr. Selvig’s behavior, it doesn’t match. Also, a change in eye-color has been detected with Barton and Selvig, this is not the case with Mr. Stark.”

So it has been Loki. But if he hasn’t attempted to mind-control him, what the hell was he trying to do?

“Mr. Stark, we have to know the exact source of the magic – whether it is in the arc reactor or in your body. We have to remove the arc reactor now. I’m afraid we cannot give you any sedative, as we don’t know if it counteracts with the magic.”

Most of the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents leave the room, except for a handful that watch the monitors.

“For how long is it safe to remove the arc reactor without causing any… maleficent effects to your health?”

Tony rolls his eyes inwardly. She could have just asked how long it would take for him to die.

“As long as I don’t move, there won’t be a problem. Just don’t take too long.”

She smiles and places another arc reactor on the table next to the chair – Fury must have taken this one with him when he showed up in his workshop. It’s an older model, but as long as he didn’t attempt to excessively use his suit, it would suffice.

Tony grits his teeth as a robot arm approaches his chest. They wouldn’t exactly let a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent do the job, after what has happened to Bruce, but the steady and slow motion the robot arm comes near him is creeping him out, as there will be no hesitation, no going back. As soon as it reaches his arc reactor, he closes his eyes, waiting for the pain.

At first, he is surprised he doesn’t feel anything except for weight of the reactor lifting from his chest.

Then, an instant later, he feels like his body is torn into pieces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews, please?


	10. Bargains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fury needs information about Asgardian magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not my favorite, but we're getting closer and closer to the actual frostiron. :) only a few more chapters to go, then the party begins!  
> Post me ANY questions you have about the magic, because seriously, it's more or less logical in my head, but I tend to forget things... ^^

For a moment, Stark looks almost peaceful, half sitting, half lying on the chair, the robotic arm pulling his arc reactor out. In this exact moment, everyone seems to hold their breath, even the machines seem to skip their buzzing for a second. In this absolute silence, Fury takes a look at Dr. Banner, standing next to him, his brows furrowed, biting his lip and clenching his fists. Everything happens in slow-motion. Banner’s fists unclench slowly, in his eyes Fury can see a glimmer of hope, when the arc reactor is separated from Stark’s body without anything happening.

The second Dr. Banner turns his head and locks his eyes with Fury’s, the second the S.H.I.E.L.D. director can see the relief in them and the small smile forming on the doctor’s lips, in exact this second the screaming starts.

It doesn’t even sound human. Reluctantly, Fury looks over to Stark, whose head is in a weird angle, his mouth opened widely. From what he can see, his eyes are rolled back into the sockets, so that only the white of his eyes is visible. Stark’s hands are clenched to fists, his fingers twitching every now and then and Fury can see a trail of blood from where his nails are digging into his skin. The ECG shows an alarmingly high heart rate, rising with each second and instantly, a bunch of doctors are bending over him, shouting across the room and trying to calm him down.

In the meantime, a team of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents are taking the arc reactor into another room. They are probably trying to get as much information out of it as possible and with the state Stark’s in, they have to be as fast as possible. The team of doctors is trying everything to cram the other arc reactor into Stark’s chest, but for whatever reason, they don’t succeed.

The silence that follows next is everything but peaceful. Fury glances to Dr. Banner, who widens his eyes in horror when he sees Stark’s head slamming back at the chair, his eyes closed. One of the doctors is turning around to them and calmingly waves a hand at them as if he wanted to say that everything is under their control, but that doesn’t wipe the look of pure horror from Banner’s face.

“He either was in such pain his body shut down or the impact of energy released inside of him was too great for him to bear, so that he lost consciousness,” the doc mutters toneless.

“They couldn’t sedate him, they didn’t know if the magic would react to the sedatives. Otherwise, they would’ve done it.” He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath before looking at Stark again, who is still not moving. His skin is incredibly pale and blue energy wavers at the edges of the opening for the arc reactor, tinting Stark’s chest and face a lifeless blue-grey, but it is getting less and less, as if the magic inside of Stark is losing power. The ECG shows he’s stabilizing again, but he doesn’t look healthy at all.

“Why wouldn’t they wait before almost killing him? Why does he have to go through this the second time today?” Banner doesn’t look at him, his gaze is still fixed on Stark and his arms are crossed – he looks as if he has to hold himself together, or he would break otherwise. And from the look of his skin, which is slightly tinted green, Fury knows that his assumption is correct. He opens his mouth, to tell Banner to keep calm, but closes it again.

_Rule #1: Don’t tell an angry person to calm down. Especially if this person transforms into a huge, green rage monster._

“It is necessary to do this as fast as possible. Stark is a ticking time-bomb. We don’t know what the magic inside of him can do. He might be a danger for all of us and most of all for himself.”

Now it’s time for Banner to look directly at him.

“What are you going to do, when the tests are over? You have no idea what the magic is going to do, if it controls Tony or otherwise! The only thing we know for sure is that Tony has this huge amount of magic in his body, but other than that, nothing!”

“Banner. Go.” The doc is green all over. Wasn’t it for the anger management training he has absolved over the past few months, he would probably hulked out already.

“I’m not going anywhere. Not until they are finished.”

They don’t talk for a few moments, both staring at the motionless Stark.

“Next thing I am going to do is talking to Thor. He has at least some knowledge about Asgardian magic. If I must, I will talk to Loki. Maybe “real power” will answer some questions, now that he isn’t all that powerful anymore. But that’s about all I can do. There’s a team of agents working on finding out what kind of magic it is we are talking about, but we don’t exactly have the right equipment for it, which is why we have to move fast here. We don’t need having to work against time, too.”

“Whatever it is, it is in both Tony and the arc reactor, and doesn’t want to be separated,” Banner points out, when the arc reactor is brought back. Instantly, the energy in Stark gets brighter and finds his way to the reactor, until they are linked together. As soon as the robot arm releases the arc reactor, and it is pushed back into Stark’s chest, the billionaire’s skin color seems to normalize again.

It’s over. Both of them are staying for a few more minutes, watching Stark and not saying a word until Fury steps back from the glass wall that separates them from him.

“I’m talking to Thor.”

“I’m staying until Tony wakes up.”

On the way to his office, he checks the data that has been collected. Apparently, the amount of energy stored in Stark’s chest and arc reactor could easily power a small village for over a month. Most of it is stored in the arc reactor, and the magic in Stark’s body is diminishing fast without it, but if he believed the results, simply waiting for the energy to vanish from his body wouldn’t work – Stark’s vital functions were slowly declining without the arc reactor, which means for whatever magic Stark is playing host at the moment, it stays where it is.

The only positive aspect Fury is able to discover before reaching his office is that Stark is most likely not mind-controlled. The energy inside of him shows many similarities with the data they have collected from Barton, but it is clearly not the same. Of course, none of this is more than speculation, as they don’t have enough data to compare the magic with in the first place. But it has to suffice for now.

Thor is already waiting for him when he opens the door to his office, sitting in one of the chairs in front of the desk, his arms crossed and Mölnjir leaning next to him.

“Fury,” he mutters and nods, when the director is crossing the room.

“Thor.”

Fury sits down on his chair behind the desk and lays the tablet with the data on it before him, for Thor to see.

“What is it that you want to ask me?” Thor openly stares at Fury, his brows furrowed.

“I need information. About magic. There has been an incident with Tony Stark and we have reasons to believe that your brother is behind all this.”

“Then why are you asking me and not my brother?” Thor asks, his voice angered.

“I simply prefer talking to you first.”

There is a moment of uncomfortable silence between them, before Fury continues.

“As you may have heard, Stark is having panic attacks. Now, here’s the thing, the panic attacks may have been caused by magic. We have traced extremely high amounts of magic in Tony and his arc reactor, and the magic is clearly Loki’s. What’s more, Stark claims he has some kind of mental link to your brother. So, we’re pretty sure he’s not mind-controlled, also that would have worn off by now. Is there anything you know about magic? Anything that can help us here?”

The thunderer brushes his hair back with both of his hands.

“I am by far not the right one to ask. There are only few things I know about magic, as I have never studied it.”

“Try. Anything.”

“Humans are not suitable for storing high amounts of magic in their bodies, normally magic vanishes after some time. Also, the human body is very fragile and cannot bear magic for long. I am afraid this is all I know.”

“So, what you are saying is that we should get rid of the magic asap? Are there any harmful side effects that could occur when we don’t?”

“As I said, I am by no means an expert. But it would be advisable to eliminate the magic, as it is for sure not beneficent for Anthony’s body.”

“So, are there any sorcerers in Asgard that could do this for us?”

“No.” Thor’s voice is sincere and again Fury senses anger.

“No?”

“For one, a spell can only be countered by the one who casts it. And this is my brother we speak of. Were this the work of another sorcerer, there could be a few skilled users of magic who would be able to lift a spell someone else has cast, but my brother is one of the most powerful sorcerers of Asgard. Secondly, my father would not simply send one of the few sorcerers Asgard has to Midgard. Wielders of magic are far too valuable to send them onto different realms, especially since Odin cannot rely on Loki anymore.”

“But you could have a word with your father.”

“I don’t think so.”

Fury raises his eyebrows, looking questioningly at Thor. What is he up to? Normally, Thor is very, very direct, but today it doesn’t seem like it.

“I will not talk to my father about anything before you do not start sticking to your part of the agreement between you and him. As I remember, you have obtained the Tesseract in exchange for taking care of Loki. My father wants him to amend his behavior, to rehabilitate if you want to call it like that. He wants you and the Avengers to take care of him, show him what it means to be human and do everything in your power for him to understand what he has done. But this agreement does not say anything about putting him into a cell and constantly observe him. Loki did not come to Midgard as your prisoner, so why are you treating him like one?”

The last sentence obviously comes out louder than Thor has planned.

“You have to understand one thing, Thor. We don’t trust Loki. Which is why you can’t expect us to let him walk in here, with us being unprotected. He is a potential threat and we don’t know for sure if his magic is bound. Our magic tracker only shows us that there is magic in him, not if he actually has access to it. So the only thing we can do is waiting and observing.”

“You could trust me. I am one of your team.”

“He is your brother.”

“I have delivered him to Odin by myself. He has wronged many of us, including myself and I assure you, I would never let him walk on Midgard freely with full access to his powers. He is not worthy of them, like I have not been worthy of my hammer when Odin banished me to this realm.”

“Still. I can’t just let him free.”

“Sooner or later this will come to Odin’s notice.”

“Okay, listen. This is not a favor for your brother. But we have to think about Stark. His life probably is in danger. So, answer me this question. Do you think Loki is the only one capable of helping him?”

“Yes. If it is true what you are saying and it is his magic in the man of iron's body, then he is.”

There isn’t exactly much he can do. If this shit with Stark hadn’t happened, he would be able to bargain. He would be able to do _something_ , but now Stark is number one priority, if he likes it or not. So the only hope they have is for Loki to become worthy of his powers again. This, and for Loki to be willing to lift the spell or whatever it is from Stark. Which of course he won't do if they let him rot in his cell. 

“So the only thing I can do is let him free and hope for him to cooperate.”

“Exactly.”

“What if Loki won’t regain his powers again? Or too slowly? What if we are running out of time?”

“Then I will do anything in my power to save Anthony Stark’s life. But don’t mistake this as a favor to you, director Fury.”

“Of course not.”

Thor smiles sweetly and gets up.

“I wish you a pleasant day, director.”


	11. Deal with the devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fury and Loki have a talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry -.- but seriously, I have no time/no muse/no motivation. So, I'm sorry that this chapter kinda sucks, but on the bright side, there will soon be some frostironing going on. ehehe. I hope you like it... (I don't, but I don't care anymore, I had to rewrite this thing too often) oh.. and sorry for the thor 2 reference. ;) I couldn't resist.

For at least another day, silence is again Loki’s only companion. The Avengers – the red-haired bitch, the archer and the Captain, all sit there stoically, one after another, until their shift is over. None of them even look in his direction. There seems to be something different going on, as their minds all seem to be elsewhere, and all three of them jump up from their seats as soon as their shift is over. After the Captain’s shift, instead of the green monster, the redhead comes into the room again. She glances shortly at Loki, her slightly turned upward nose wrinkled in disgust, then, an instant later, she sits at her usual place next to the door, not wasting a second glance at him.

After seconds of staring at her, Loki turns his back to the door, seating himself on his bed again. For the last couple of days, except for his conversation with Thor, the strange behavior of Stark and the Hulk’s almost showing up, there has been nothing of interest for him. He had time to think about everything – the last few months he has spent imprisoned, the events that have led to his imprisonment – exactly how Odin probably would have wanted. The last few days he had much time – too much time, to think about him falling through the void, willing to die, about how this almost certain death had never occurred, about how he had found himself amongst the Chitauri eventually, with Thanos willing to help him take over Earth and stealing the Tesseract for the sole purpose of having a gateway to Asgard. Thanos has not told him exactly what it was he seeked in Asgard, but Loki is pretty sure he knows anyways. Whatever it is, it does not exactly matter now anyway.

With his fingers, he starts detangling his hair and some small part of him is glad that he cannot exactly have a look at himself now except for his reflection on the glass walls which he tries to avoid as often as possible. Every now and then in the past few months he has asked himself if he had been anything more than a puppet in the events that had occurred on Midgard. There have been times, most of them in the dark and dirty cell in Asgard, where he wanted to believe it more than anything. Truth to be told, he simply does not know. The events on Midgard, those few days, have happened too fast and all he knows are fragments. He has been insane, he knows that. Part of it was because there has been nothing to lose. Nothing at all. For once, he has let his insanity take over, his hatred, his envy. And in the past centuries of standing in the shadow of his glorious brother, there have been many things to be envious about.

Smiling slightly he leans his cheek on the cool glass. He has been out of his mind. But hasn’t he always been that way? Loki, prince of Asgard, god of mischief and chaos, trickster, liesmith, silvertongue, who has slaughtered Frost Giants and humans alike – hasn’t he always been insane?

A cough from somewhere behind him makes him turn around and temporarily forget what he has thought about. For a moment, Loki is startled, when he sees the tall black men with the eye patch that somehow reminds him of Odin, although he does not know if it is the eye patch or something different. Nevertheless, Nick Fury’s presence makes him sneer.

“Loki _Laufeyson_ ,” Fury starts and Loki instinctively clenches his hands into fists at the sound of the name.

“I am here to talk about what you have done to Tony Stark.”

Loki has to think for a moment what exactly he could have done to the man in the ridiculous armor, but he can’t recall anything. Then again, his memory has not been the best lately.

“So it is my fault that Tony Stark cannot bear my presence and panics as soon as he sees me? This is low, even for you, human.”

He bares his teeth and curls his lips to what feels like an ugly smile and stares at the human provokingly, but Fury only arches his brow.

“This is not what I am talking about, Laufeyson.”

“So what is it?”

“We have reason to belief you planted magic in Stark. We have run tests and not only does Stark show an incredible amount of magic, we also undoubtedly traced _your_ magic.”

For a split second, Loki is sure his eyes have widened in astonishment, but his mask is back on his face in less than a heartbeat. This cannot be possible. He remembers his short encounter with Stark, but he cannot recall laying a spell on him, not after the mind-manipulation has not worked, which would have wore off by now anyway.

“How high is this incredible amount of magic you are speaking of exactly? Forgive me if I cannot recall every detail of the short period of time I have spent in Midgard, as it has been quite… eventful.”

He can see Fury’s face lightening up with anger more and more with every word that leaves his lips and in response his smile is getting broader.

“I doubt that would be any of your concern.”

Well, it was worth a try.

“So what exactly do you want from me?”

“I want you to reverse whatever spell you have casted on Stark.”

Despite himself, Loki bursts into a shrill, harsh laugh. After a short time his ribs start to hurt, though, and he abruptly ends it.

“You _see_ the problem in that, don’t you? Even if I wanted to lift that spell from your precious man of iron, which I do not, there is _no_ way I could do that.” He rolls up his sleeves until Fury can see his forearms, almost black with runes.

“You forgot why your dear daddy has sent you here.”

“Is that so.”

“Rehabilitation would be what we call it here. Believe me, you do not exactly have any fans here on Earth, and to be honest, the sooner you’re back where you belong, the better. And your loving father will only accept you back if you are… how did your brother put it… be ‘worthy’ of your magic again. So now is the best time starting with it.”

Now it is time for Loki to arch a brow.

“That leaves one question, Fury. Why would I help you?”

“Because I believe you want your magic back, don’t you, ‘real power’?”

Loki says nothing, he only crosses his arms. Of course he wants his magic back. What kind of a question is this? He glances to Fury, who, for the fraction of a moment, seems to be smiling.

“I thought so. So here’s the deal. As long as you help getting Stark back to normal, we will do anything in our power to make a better person out of you and get you your fucking magic back.”

Unable to hold it back, Loki bursts out in laughter.

“You must be _truly_ desperate to come to me for help. Why else would you agree to help a convict?”

Fury curtly shakes his head, his expression stern.

“We simply take advantage of your being here. Plus, that’s been our deal with daddy-dearest.”

“So what exactly keeps me from exploiting your aid without lifting the spell from the man of iron?”

“Your part of the deal. I’ve heard you’ve not exactly been conscious at your trial, Laufeyson, but your _brother_ has been eager to tell me you are bound to assist us in every way we consider appropriate. You’re practically our slave. I wouldn’t break the deal, Loki, or, to put it into Thor’s words, ‘you will be made feeling the wrath of Odin’.”

He feels himself paling at Fury’s words. It is true, the loss of his magic has been weakening him too much to be fully conscious at his trial. He needed most of his strength to kneel upright, and the pain and the almost cutting off of his senses have resulted in him actually not knowing the outcome of the trial, let alone the details.

“Why should I believe you or Thor? How can I even be assured that what you speak is true?”

Fury definitely smiles broadly now.

“I guess you have to trust me. Here in … _Midgard_ , contracts are written down, but you Asgardians seem to handle these things differently, so the only thing you can do is simply trust me. I’ve heard this Heimdall guy can see everything, and I’ve been told he keeps a very close eye on you.”

“Aesir.”

The S.H.I.E.L.D. director raises his eyebrows questioningly.

“The people who live in Asgard. Their race is called Aesir.”

“Are they.”

 _But you are an_ Asgardian _, and nothing more. A Jötunn, dressed up as an Aesir prince._ Loki feels the words hanging in the air between them, he can see in Fury’s eyes that the black man is thinking this exact thing.

“So, what are my alternatives?” he spits out.

“As long as you don’t consider rotting in this cell forever an alternative, I would say none, Laufeyson.”

“Why are you here then? Why taking the time to ask me if I am even willed to help you when in the end I am forced to do so anyway? You do not make sense, human.”

“Am I not allowed to have a little fun? I wanted to see your face when telling you that you have to work with us, whether you like it or not. It was worth it, by the way.”

There is nothing he can reply to that and he blames his new human way of thought, constantly distracted, too much led by his emotions and too little calculating. There is a constant buzz in his brain that keeps him from concentrating, and along with his hunger and thirst – the meals have been small and too far apart for the humans only seem to feed him enough for him to survive – he is about as far from his old self as he has thought it would be possible.

“Tell me,” he starts, making some steps back to sit down on his bed, as his feet suddenly don’t seem to hold his weight anymore, “how am I supposed to help you? I am in no position to lift that spell and you know as much as me that I will most probably not be any time soon.”

“Well, I don’t quite believe in you suddenly embrace your new-found humanity and go from maniac war criminal to warm-heartedly Prince of Asgard who helps old ladies cross the street overnight either. But we will at least run do some testing to be prepared saving Stark without your help. Speaking of which, I will give you another chance. What have you done to him?”

“As I said, I can’t recall having done anything to him.”

“So I guess that will be your first task now. Use your brain and tell us what exactly you did to him. I may not be an expert in magic but I don’t think Stark is capable of absorbing your magic just like that.”

Frowning, Loki slowly shakes his head. His mind is blank; he cannot remember a thing he has supposedly done to the man.

“So, are you helping us voluntarily?”

“Will I still be locked up in here?”

“No. But don’t think we can’t monitor your every movement. We have means of surveillance, too. Your Heimdall is not the only one with his eyes everywhere.”

Numbly, Loki’s gaze wanders back to Fury. He feels lightheaded and when he swallows, his throat is dry. Frantically, he thinks of some way he could benefit from this situation.

“If I cannot get my magic back, what are you going to do to me?”

There is silence for a moment.

“Let me put it this way. You damn well should try everything to get it back. And if that means being nice and friendly and doing everything you are told, do it. Otherwise… I guess there are many people out there who want you to pay for what you have done four months ago. So if I don’t see you giving your best, I will not attempt keeping these people away from you.”

In silence, he nods.

“I will need more to eat. I may be human in form, but my body is not human, therefore it needs more energy. I won’t be of any use if you keep my rations so low.”

He hates practically telling Fury he is weak, but there is no way around it.

“Fine.”

Surprised, Loki lifts his head, but Fury’s mimic hasn’t changed in the slightest.

“And I will need to see Stark. Spells leave marks most of the time, and I may be able to tell which one it is from seeing them.”

“So you’re in? You’ll cooperate?”

What other chance does he have? He can’t think of one, maybe due to the fact that his head is hurting. Still, it means getting out of this cell, probably getting to eat more, and most importantly, having something to do. And he wouldn’t be Loki if he did not find some way or another to profit from all of this.

“I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as usual, please review - I really love your questions and ideas (and i need them)


	12. Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Fury have a talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, sorry. I'm taking too long to write these things, but at least I have a valid apology :) I've been away with a friend for a few days and when I got back, I finished my entry for the Frostiron Bang that you will be able to find here in September.   
> What's more, this is a filler chapter, don't expect anything TOO interesting here, but next chapter the action starts. Also, sorry guys, no Loki in here, he'll be back in chapter 13.   
> Also, please tell me if there's something you don't understand with this magic thingy. I'll try to explain everything, but I have to admit, I'm not SO sure of how it works myself.^^  
> Oh, and I suck at titles. I know.   
> PS: We've reached 30 k! Yay!

When Tony wakes up again, the pain is still lingering in his chest. For a moment, he doesn’t quite know where he is, when he is staring at the white ceiling and then is turning his head to the unfamiliar furniture that makes the room look like a room in a hospital. Suddenly, when resting his eyes on the monitors next to him, the S.H.I.E.L.D. emblem engraved on them catches his attention and his memory slowly comes back.

 

He winces in pain when the memory of the robotic arm yanking out his arc reactor comes back. He must have lost consciousness, because he cannot remember anyone pushing the arc reactor back in, but it is there when he lifts his shirt. Sighing, he closes his eyes again. He feels weak – or, more precisely it is the magic inside of him that feels weak. It is hard to tell his feelings apart from the magic and it is still strange to think of the energy that is lingering inside of him having actual feelings, but he can’t explain it otherwise. Right now, whatever it is that Loki presumably has implanted into him, feels highly disturbed and there is one strain of thought very present in his mind. _He has to get out of here._

 

However, Tony dismisses the idea as soon as he tries to sit up, when a wave of nausea flushes over him and his vision temporarily goes black. He lets his head fall back into the too-soft pillow and closes his eyes shut again, not opening them until he can hear footsteps approaching and someone opening the door.

 

“Mr. Stark, how are you feeling?” S.H.I.E.L.D.’s muscle-packed and obviously well-trained in combat version of a male nurse, a tall black guy with cropped short hair and a flashing smile, is asking him, typing in something in one of the computers.

 

“Splendid, now you are asking. I especially enjoyed the bit where you pulled out my arc reactor. The feeling was unbelievably… _intense_.”

 

“I am sorry for the inconveniences, but the tests had to be made.” His smile vanishes and instead he is checking his vitals.

 

“So, how are you feeling, Mr. Stark? Are you in any pain? Please be honest,” he says after a while, examining the skin around his arc reactor that seem a bit more red than the rest.

 

When the nurse’s fingers come closer, Tony feels himself gritting his teeth and clenching his fists. He is sure he isn’t doing it himself, but a wave of anger overcomes him and he has to fight against pushing the man away from him.

 

_Come on, calm down, whatever you are._

 

Before anything happens, however, the nurse is already back at the foot of his bed, typing something in the computer.

 

“My chest is still hurting and I’m feeling a bit nauseous. And… it… isn’t feeling well.” He points at his chest awkwardly.

 

The guy only nods and furrows his brows and his eyes widen a bit. “Director Fury will be here soon, he will fill you in on the outcome of the tests and talk to you on how to proceed.”

 

With that, he is gone, leaving behind a very confused Tony Stark. Why did he leave so fast? The answer lies in the arc reactor, Tony finds out a moment later, when looking down on his chest, where he can see the arc reactor glow light blue, with swirls of magic wavering around.

 

Frowning, he puts his hand above the arc reactor, trying to push the energy back inside, but it slips through his fingers, making him shiver when it touches his skin.

 

_What the hell are you?_

 

Closing his eyes, he tries reaching out to Loki, and indeed he feels his presence, not as strong as yesterday, but it is there. He can feel that the God of Mischief is uncomfortable, weak, hungry, and he is almost sure Fury is with him. After a minute or so, he stops however, as the feelings of weakness and hunger are taking over and growing stronger with every moment that passes. He tries to block Loki out again, and eventually he manages, but it is a more tiring task than he has thought.

 

After he can’t feel Loki anymore, he closes his eyes again and listens to the sound of his heartbeat and the blood that is rushing in his ears. Whatever Loki has done, did he do it on purpose? Does he know Tony can reach out to him and feel what he is feeling? What does this magic thing even do, other than strangely linking him to the God of Mischief? Why the nightmares, the panic attacks? Why did nothing of the sort happen before Loki’s arrival? _Why now?_

 

He must have fallen asleep, as he is almost startled to bed when the door is yanked open again. It takes him several seconds until he finally blinks a few times, glaring in the direction of where the noise came from. Through his half-open eyes, he makes out an intimidating silhouette, big and broad with a long black coat. He notices it is Fury he is staring at when his eyes wander up his body until he reaches the bald, dark-skinned head and the eye patch.

 

“Fury.”

 

“Stark.” Fury nods at him and places one of the chairs closer to the bed before he sits down on it. Instantly, with the S.H.I.E.L.D. closer than it has to be, Tony can feel the anger flaring up inside of him, and again it is not his anger.

 

“I would move back a bit if I were you,” Tony mumbles through gritted teeth, and again blue magical energy is slowly crawling up on his skin, making him shiver a bit.

 

Fury shifts back with his chair and instantly the blue glow is gone. He arches up an eyebrow and looks at Tony questioningly.

 

“It seems not to like S.H.I.E.L.D. guys.”

 

The S.H.I.E.L.D. director slowly nods, but keeps his mouth shut otherwise.

 

“So, why are you here? Did it at least pay off letting me suffer like that?”

 

“It had to be. Otherwise we wouldn’t know what it is we are dealing with. I’m sorry for the pain those tests must have caused you, but the sooner we know how we can get rid of the magic the better.”

 

“From what you are saying it seems like you still don’t know how to get the magic out of my system again. Have you talked to Thor?”

 

Fury lets out a deep sigh, crossing his arms.

 

“There is more magic inside of you than it should possible if you believe our studies. To be exact, you could serve as an energy source for a small town for at least a month. And it is Loki’s magic, we can be sure of that. On the bright side, you are not in any way manipulated, at least not in any way we know of. But on the other hand, the amount of magic in your body is many times higher than what we had measured in Selvig and Hawkeye. But we can’t be sure, we couldn’t exactly run tests on them, only quickly scan them, and our knowledge was very much behind what we know now.”

 

Tony nods in understanding, pinching his fingers on the bridge of his nose.

 

“So, what are you going to do with me? I assume that I can’t just go home?”

 

“I have talked to Thor,” Fury continues, looking sternly, “and there seems to be a significant problem. Thor has told me that there is no way some sorcerer from Asgard can just fix you.”

 

“Why? What is so difficult about that?”

 

“Thor says it is incredibly difficult for a sorcerer to lift the spell of another one, but as Loki is one of the most talented sorcerers of Asgard, there is next to no way anyone could lift that spell, or whatever it is, from you.”

 

“So, what you are saying is basically, that there is nothing you can do.”

 

“No, I am not saying that. There is something we can do, but you are not going to like it.”

 

Tony doesn’t even want to know, but he nevertheless indicates Fury to continue.

 

“The only one who can lift the spell is Loki himself. So, our only chance is to make Loki lift it.”

 

“Last time I checked he couldn’t do magic.”

 

“Yeah, but isn’t he here to ‘be worthy of his powers’ again? I don’t say it’s the best option, and you sure as hell don’t get rid of the magic any time soon, but it’s the only thing we can do.”

 

“What, wait, until Mr. I-have-tried-to-rule-Earth comes to his senses again and suddenly is a changed man?”

 

“I don’t like it any more than you do.” Fury turns his head over to the window and stares out at the streets and skyscrapers, his arms still crossed.

 

“That’s not all, isn’t it?”

 

“Of course it isn’t. In order for Loki to get his magic back and even consider helping you, we can’t keep him locked up. Which means Earth’s Mightiest Heroes will have some babysitting to do. Also, he claims not to know what he has done to you. Which is why he wants to see you, to examine the extent of the spell or something. I’m sorry, Stark, but we have to partly play with his rules here, otherwise he could just vanish after he has his power back without helping you in any way. He shouldn’t be able to do so, but after all he is the God of Mischief. So, try to be civilized.”

 

Tony realizes he is gaping at Fury only when the S.H.I.E.L.D. director raises his eyebrows.

 

“You can’t be serious. I am not, under no circumstances, never, going anywhere near him. You realize the last time I was near Loki I had a panic attack? He was behind a wall of glass so resilient not even the Hulk can break it. What do you think will happen when I face him?”

 

“He won’t be able to help you otherwise. He agreed on helping us finding out the nature of his spell, so that we can run more tests. Maybe we won’t even need Loki to lift it from you, but we can’t know that without him telling us first what it is we are dealing with. So, regardless of what has happened, you are going to face him. This is an order, Stark.”

 

“You can’t just order me around.”

 

“I just did.”

 

“What happens to me, Fury? I mean, in the meantime, while Rudolph is still an average reindeer without his glowing nose? Sorry, that was just bad, but I’m not even awake yet. I can’ exactly be an Avenger right now, with this weird shit that is going on with my body.”

“You have to stay here, at S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ, where we can monitor you closely.”

 

The magic that suddenly flares out of the arc reactor and shoots at Fury almost knocks him from his chair.

 

“What the hell, Stark?”

 

“I’m sorry, I can’t control it.” He clutches his chest and tries to breathe evenly.

 

“I think it doesn’t want to stay here.”

 

While speaking he knows he is right, as the magic instantly calms down and the anger that has been flaring up since Fury has opened the door slowly dissipates.

 

“This is our only option.”

 

Another flare of blue energy shoots out of Tony’s chest. He closes his eyes, trying to calm it down, but it takes several minutes to actually manage doing so.

 

“It’s not,” he says after everything is back to normal.

 

“How is that so?”

 

“We still have Stark tower.”

 

“Stark, no.”

 

“Why not?” He turns his head to directly face Fury. “It is the most secure building in New York City, even more secure than S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ and thanks to my incredible genius it has the most elaborate technical equipment. Plus, if you worry about my safety, I am sure you can talk Natasha, Clint, Steve and Thor into moving in with me. There is enough space for everyone.”

 

Inside of his head he hears himself saying those words, and even if he knows he did have this idea, he certainly doesn’t really do the talking. The magic is, or rather, it is pushing him in a certain direction. Still, Tony is sure, Loki is not controlling him, not that he would even be able to in his current state.

 

“Fine.”

 

Tony blinks. Fine?

 

“It would probably be better anyways if you and your crazy as shit magic were not directly in the center of S.H.I.E.L.D. We don’t know if you are able to blow up the building, so I would appreciate you trying this out with your own tower.”

 

Tony nods. Well, not entirely bad. At least he can stay home.

 

“You are taking Loki with you, just so you know. Maybe, in company of Earth’s Mighty Heroes he will be able to get worthy again. Who knows.”

 

“Loki is not going to move in with me, Fury,” Tony shouts without thinking about him sounding like a twelve-year old girl.

 

“Yes he is. You probably have to work closely together anyway, so it would only be convenient if you two are in direct vicinity to one another.

 

Tony is too tired and too much in pain to argue, so he just shakes his head and sighs.

 

A few hours later, when the pain in his chest is mostly gone, and he has urged to go back home, he finds himself back at Stark Tower, a glass of bourbon in his hand, staring out of the window – the very window Loki threw him out of. He takes a sip, ignoring the slight tingle the magic causes in his stomach.

 

“What have you done to me, Loki?” he mumbles, glaring at the fluffy green clouds Central Park seems to consist of when looking at it from above.

 

Since he is back at Stark Tower, he can feel Loki’s presence much more intensely, he can even feel that the god’s hair is dripping wet, he can feel the cold floor beneath his feet and the strangeness of Midgardian clothing.

 

“JARVIS, please turn yourself off for this room.”

 

“As you wish, Sir.”

 

He doesn’t need JARVIS telling him to know who is just outside of the door that leads into the room, barefoot and with hair still wet from showering.

 

He doesn’t need to turn around to know who is opening the door, slipping through the gap almost without making any sound.

 

He doesn’t need to turn around to know that at this moment, the person behind him is staring at him in mild surprise.

 

“Stark.”

 

But even though he knows all of this it still doesn’t keep the glass of bourbon from slipping out of his hand and shattering into a thousand pieces when the wave of emotion that Loki’s voice has triggered sweeps across him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Review, please?


	13. Connection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki arrives at Stark Tower and shit gets serious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I want to thank my beta lazyjayneislazy (on tumblr) for the great work she's done, as well as all the others that were helping me with this chapter.  
> Secondly, this one is a lot longer than usual, as you may have noticed. Also, I'm pretty sure it leaves you with lots of questions - feel free to post them, I'll try answering them in the next couple of chapters.

 

It is the first time in what was almost a week now that Loki has set foot outside his cell. After Fury has gone, everything has happened fast. He recalls the look in Romanoff’s face when four S.H.I.E.L.D. agents have been striding through the door and opening the entrance to his prison cell, only to grab his arms and put his wrists in handcuffs.

He can see the assassin holding the machinery that they call _telephone_ to her ear, looking angry.

“Fury, what’s the meaning of this?”

He can’t hear the director’s response; unfortunately, as his ears, now without the gift of fine hearing, betray him, as he is towed past her. His hands on his back are clenched and he grits his teeth when he once more realizes how weak he is. The S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, who steadily continue to hurt his upper arms with their iron grips, are practically dragging him behind them and he stumbles more than he actually walks.

It does not take long for them to reach one of their black vehicles where he is shoved in, doors closing behind him. This time, however, none of the Avengers is guarding him. Except for two S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, who are looking more intimidated than they should, given the sorry state Loki is in, he is alone. He tries to get as comfortable as possible on the strangely soft seating arrangement, but he fails as his hands are still cuffed behind his back. When the vehicle finally moves, he is thrown forward, but immediately one of the agents reaches over to him and puts some kind of belt across his body, which keeps him from moving any further. Annoyed, because now he feels his hands behind his back even more prominently, he scowls at him, but notices that he straps the same kind of belt across his own body.

It does not take long until they have reached their destination and the doors are yanked open. Once again, Loki is grabbed at his upper arms and pulled out of the car before he can even move by himself. He wants to yell at them, but something tells him it would not be the best of ideas. After all, Fury has said he was practically their slave and even though he cannot fully trust the director of S.H.I.E.L.D., he better keeps his mouth shut.

The first familiar face he sees is the one of Fury, who waits for him next to what seems to be a door.

“I can take him from here.” The S.H.I.E.L.D. agents instantly let go of him, which results in Loki almost falling to the ground be it not for Fury, who grips his shirt in the last moment, keeping him from hitting the floor.

Without a word, Fury slowly releases his grip and when the door opens, urges him to follow him into the tiny room that is revealed. The room Loki finds himself in is even smaller than the cell, with hardly enough space for Fury and him to stand next to each other. One of the walls is clad with mirrors and next to the door there are a handful of buttons, which Fury is studying right now, before he presses one.

Loki suddenly has a feeling like the ground is moving upwards, his feet are pressed onto the floor and he glances at the S.H.I.E.L.D. director for a moment, seeing him smirk despite not even looking in his direction. A few seconds later, the sensation of movement is gone and the door opens again.

“You have reached the 106th floor,” a male voice is speaking, and Loki turns his head but cannot find the source of the voice.

Fury steps out of the room and Loki cannot help to be slightly surprised to find himself in completely different surroundings than before. They are located in what seems like Midgardian chambers, a sofa is placed in the middle of the room, next to a glass table, facing the wall on which something black and square – a TV screen, if Loki remembers correctly, is hanging. There is not much more furniture, it seems as if the room has been furnished only a short while ago, but there are a few doors leading into other rooms, some of them standing open.

“Where are we?” Loki asks bluntly, when Fury starts removing his handcuffs.

“I would have thought you might remember the surroundings, as you have destroyed a good part of this building.”

Loki doesn’t answer; he only stares out of the window, letting his eyes glide over the view of the city.

“Stark Tower. Rings any bells?”

“Of course. I am terribly sorry that I didn’t have time for – how do you call it? – _sightseeing_ when I was on Midgard the last time.”

“Very funny. So, these are your rooms, you will find anything you need in here and if you have any questions, JARVIS will most likely answer them.”

Before Loki has a chance to ask who JARVIS is, he can again hear the voice from before.

“Feel free to ask me anything you want, Sir.”

Eyes wide open; Loki is searching the room for the source of the voice, again not finding anything.

“It’s an A.I., an artificial intelligence. JARVIS doesn’t have a body. Stark built him.”

Fury obviously thinks that this is all he has to know, as he turns for the door a second after he has stopped speaking.

“Wait. What am I supposed to do here?”

“Stay out of trouble. JARVIS will tell you as soon as there is anywhere you have to be, but until then, just try not to upset anyone. Especially not Stark.”

He nods and this time, Fury leaves and Loki suddenly finds himself all alone. For what seems like an eternity, he just stands there, leaning on the sofa with closed eyes. He still doesn’t know what he should think of all that, not in the slightest. Is this situation any better than being locked up? Is this one step to freedom or just a bigger cell, serving the purpose of keeping Loki distracted of the fact that he is most likely to spend a lot of time in here? He has never been much of an optimist, but after months of being locked up, he figures he can at least make the best of this situation.

When he opens his eyes again, he tries to take in the room. There is nothing noteworthy here, as the sofa and the table are indeed the only furniture. Hesitantly, he crosses the room and opens one of the doors to what seems to be the Midgardian version of a kitchen. There is a bowl of fruit standing on a table, waiting for him to eat it. He strides forward, or at least he tries to – in reality he is slowly moving forward, his knees hardly supporting the weight of his body, until he stands directly in front of the fruit bowl. There are apples, but aside from that he does not know any of those strange exotic fruits. His fingers are outstretched right above the bowl, not sure what to pick. He is hungry, in fact his stomach is making strange noises he has never heard before, but still… this could be a test, or a trap of some sorts.

“You may eat the fruit if you want. There is more food in the refrigerator – the cabinet directly to your left.”

He ignores the tingle of discomfort the bodiless voice leaves behind and is once again tempted to search the room for its origin, but instead he carefully picks an apple out of the fruit bowl and starts chewing on it while trying to find out what exactly a _refrigerator_ is.

After snatching another two apples out of the bowl, because, to be honest, it does not matter if this is a test or not, he is hungry and weak and this bothers him much more, he decides to take a look at the other rooms that he has not seen so far. Carefully, to not overstrain himself, he walks out of the kitchen and opens the door left to it, which reveals a bedroom. Loki cannot help but being not very impressed by the interior which is completely lacking any sort of style. Sure, he can see that the material the bed is made of must have been costly, as well as the fabric the curtains and the bedclothes consist of, but apart from that, there is no decoration, no ornaments, paintings or the sort, which lets the room look cold and uncomfortable and serves Loki once again as a reminder of how far away he is now from what he has been.

He opens the cupboard where he can find clothes, _Midgardian clothes_ , which, on closer examination, could fit him. He takes out a pair of black trousers and a black shirt, deciding to change into them later. They feel odd – unlike Asgardian clothing they seem not to have the purpose of being protective – as they are light and thin and made out of simple fabric instead of leather. Still, they are an improvement over the clothes he wears since his imprisonment, actually even longer as they originally have served the purpose of undergarments to be worn under his armor. Carefully, he carries them with him, cautious to not clutch them too tightly onto his body, so that they wouldn’t become filthy like the clothes he is wearing right now.

There is another door leading away from the main chamber, and it opens to a bathroom, or something of the sort, he is not exactly sure about it. He stumbles forward to the basin and turns on the water, carefully trying not to look into the mirror. He lets the water run over his face, over his hands, washing away some of the dirt, and when the thirst takes over, he starts drinking it, savoring every sip.

He feels slightly better than before after turning off the water, but this feeling only lasts until he straightens himself again, accidentally looking directly in the mirror in front of him.

_Is that him?_

His face is still unnaturally pale underneath the grime, even paler than his usually fair complexion used to be. His hair, once slicked back and carefully groomed, now does not resemble any kind of hairdo anymore, as it is greasy and long, a few locks hanging into his face, now dripping wet. He looks small in his torn clothes that look too big on him now after months of imprisonment and malnutrition.

_Is that a former prince of Asgard?_

He carefully peels his shirt off his body, wincing at the memories the runes on his forearms are bringing up. Now that he is standing in front of the mirror, he cannot look away anymore, he cannot bring himself to closing his eyes, so he sees in horror all the cuts and bruises on his arms and torso, the lack of muscles, his collarbones that are standing out more than before. He has never been as muscle-packed as Thor has been, but nevertheless he was well-trained, lean but strong. What is left of him now is a miserable looking something, a nobody. He has lost all of his former glory and it is more than his magic, his weapons or his fine garments that he is lacking – there is no pride in his eyes anymore, he looks haunted instead of intimidating, his posture tells nothing of his royal upbringing, with his hunched shoulders – shoulders that once almost carried a whole kingdom upon them.

Disgusted by himself and his weakness, he begins to step out of his trousers, which is more difficult than he had thought, since they are stiff with dirt. He turns on the water once again, beginning to scrub the dirt off of his arms with his bare fingers.

“Sir, I would advise you taking the shower.”

He arcs his eyebrows in surprise of hearing the bodiless voice again.

“So this is what you do? You are monitoring me? Naked, trying to clean myself?”

“I am installed in every room of this tower, Mr. Laufeyson. My eyes are everywhere. You can compare me to Heimdall, but unfortunately, unlike him, I am not able to see the future.”

“Do not compare yourself to Heimdall.”

“Of course. I would, nevertheless, still advise you to use the shower, the instalment you can find on your left.”

He instinctively turns his head to his left, where there is a glass wall that parts the room. It sends shivers down his spine as it instantly reminds him of the glass cage he has spent the last few days in.

“What is the meaning behind you watching me? You could simply look away.”

“I am afraid I cannot. I am not human, Mr Laufeyson. I am a creation of Mr Stark, a computer, an artificial being. I am watching over the tower and Mr. Stark’s other residences among other things. As I said, I am installed in every room of this tower, monitoring everything that is going on. I am sorry about causing you discomfort, but rest assured that no one besides Mr Stark has access to this footage and he has normally no intention of watching it unless I tell him there is something of interest going on, which I won’t, unless there is.”

He nods, moving to the shower. Still, he cannot say he understands. What is the meaning behind all of this? Why lock him in like a convict only to grant him his own chambers, tasteless as they may be, and relative freedom only a few days afterwards? Is there something evil planned or are they really that desperate to save the man of iron? Is he really their only hope? Fury for sure had not intended to convey desperation, but Loki does not carry the name of Silvertongue without reason. A real liar knows his kind when he sees them and Fury seems like a skilled liar, but probably not skilled enough to deceive the God of Mischief.

Still, there are questions left unanswered. Everything has happened too fast. Not long ago, he had been in his cell, and now this? Do they want him to be grateful for their generosity? The corners of his mouth are slightly turning upwards at the thought. Loki of Asgard, as broken as he may be, is never grateful.

He steps into the shower, his fingers touching the cold tiles.

“I will turn on the water now, Mr. Laufeyson. There is a collection of soaps in the far corner on your right. Please tell me if the water is too hot or too cold for your liking. I will not interfere anymore; just call me if you need help.”

Before he can respond, there is water spraying down on him. For a minute, he just closes his eyes, feeling his body relax. He is reminded of standing under a waterfall, something he and Thor have often done in summer when they were kids. Instantly, he pushes this memory away – the water which is hailing down on him now is much hotter than that of a waterfall anyway.

He moves to his right, looking for a bar of soap, but instead he finds various bottles of different colors and sizes. He studies every single one of them – some have _shower gel_ written on them others _shampoo_ or _conditioner_. As he cannot exactly make sense of any of these names, he settles for the one that smells the best – a fresh smell of lemons and something he cannot lay a finger upon. Carefully, he spreads the liquid out on his skin, where it foams immediately as it mingles with water. He lets his fingers brush over his skin, cleaning every inch of his body in soothing, circling motions. At first, he is held back to touch his skin and he bites his tongue when he brushes over his cuts and bruises, but after a while, his motions are becoming less hesitant and he digs his fingers into his shoulders, scratching out the dirt of his pores, and with it every minute he has spent in the filthy Asgardian prison, degraded and humiliated. He washes away the look in Odin’s face when he told him he would have made it, the disappointment he could read between the lines of his brother’s meaningless and shallow phrases.

His hands move over his stomach, until he is reaching a region that has not been touched in months and immediately he feels desire coming up. Longingly, he strokes a finger over his manhood, touching the sensitive skin. The feeling is only intensified by the water running down on him, and he could feel a twitching under his fingers. He pours some more of this so-called shower gel into his hands, motioning his hands back, spreading the foam on his length. Instantly, the memories of the past few months are gone, instead he finds himself almost moaning with desire, when he proceeds cleaning every inch of it, as he has done with the rest of his body. He is longing for more, longing for stroking his hands across his length, but instead, he withdraws them reluctantly.

There is still the possibility of someone other than JARVIS watching him and he doesn’t want anyone to have the satisfaction of watching the God of Mischief touching himself.

Instead he moves on to his hair, which is soaking wet by now and runs his fingers through it. Long, black locks are falling onto his shoulders when he is finished washing it, too long for his liking, but at least he somehow manages to make it at least halfway presentable again. He stays a little longer in the shower than necessary, letting water fall down his shoulders, but eventually he feels clean – a wonderful feeling after such a long time.

“I am finished, you can turn the water off now,” he says, facing the wall and feeling a little bit strange talking to thin air. The water, however, is immediately turned off.

“There are towels in the drawers,” JARVIS notes when slides the door to the side and Loki allows himself to be a little bit thankful for that remark.

A few minutes later, when he is clad in his new Midgardian clothes that feel foreign, but at least are clean and look better than his old ones, he allows himself to look into the mirror once again. His image still bears little resemblance to the glorious prince he had been, but at least he does not look like a beggar any more.

He rubs his hair dry with the bath towel and leaves the bathroom. Not quite knowing what to do with his old clothes, he leaves them hanging over a drawer. A few moments later, he raids the fruit bowl again, this time going for something unknown, that JARVIS informs him is a fruit called banana. It tastes delicious, not that he would ever admit this.

“Am I allowed to explore the rest of the tower or do I have to stay in these chambers?” he asks after sitting on the sofa for a while, staring out of the window.

“You may as well go outside. I have to inform you that you cannot leave the tower, but you are allowed to move around freely,” comes the immediate response.

Loki nods and stands up. After all this time of sitting or lying in a cell and doing nothing, he feels uncomfortable with the thought of having nothing to do, so he may as well explore the tower, even though he doubts he would find anything of interest.

When he finds a door – not the one that leads to the tiny moving room – he is surprised to find himself in an empty hall. His bare feet are slowly getting cold when strolling along on the cool stone floor, but at the moment it does not matter to him. After wandering around on the floor he finally finds a staircase and decides to climb it up. Again, there is no doubt this tower must have been costly, but still it lacks style in comparison to the marvellous palaces of Asgard.

There is something familiar about the next floor, Loki is thinking as he climbs the last couple of stairs. Hesitating, he takes a look at his surroundings. Has he been here before? Loki knows he has been in Stark Tower before, confronting Stark himself, but at that time he could not have cared less about his surroundings. Still, something about the glass front and the view over the city strikes him as familiar. He runs his fingers through his still damp hair, looking around, until his eyes lay upon a huge door at the far end of the room.

When he pushes down the door handle, it opens without making any sound. Behind it, he finds the reason for finding this floor familiar. There it is – the bar where Tony Stark had offered him a drink, the glass front where he had thrown him out. He makes a few steps inside the room, memorizing the place where the Hulk had smashed him to the ground, making the tiles underneath his body break, when he sees a figure standing opposite of him, looking out of the window.

“Stark.”

There is a glass filled with liquid, which is shimmering dark golden in Stark’s hand, as Loki can see when the Man of Iron turns his face to him.

For a moment that feels like an eternity, none of them is speaking and Loki can only wonder about the look of sheer horror at Stark’s face, or the way his hands start to tremble.

Only when he loses his grip on the glass and it is falling to the floor, shattering in a million pieces, time seems to flow again.

“You have no right to come here.” There is anger in Stark’s voice when he steps over what the pieces of glass, coming closer to him with a determination that makes Loki shift uncomfortably.

“Then you should have informed me about it.”

He scolds himself, when Stark is only a handful of steps away and instinctively backs to the door, but he soon is stopped by the other man, who shoves him to the nearest wall, pinning him there and digging his finger nails into his shoulder blades painfully.

“What the hell did you do to me, Loki?”

The question takes him with surprise – has it not been the first time today he hears it.

“I cannot recall having done anything to you.”

“Liar.”

He is not prepared for the fist that hits his left cheek, causing him to taste blood almost immediately. Instinctively, he tries pushing him off, but he is unfamiliar with his so much weaker body right now. Normally, he can rely on his strength and his magic, now he has neither of them, so it comes as no surprise to him when Stark is throwing him down to the floor, letting himself fall onto him.

“Once again. What. Have. You. Done. You must have done something – otherwise I wouldn’t have magic randomly spreading out of me, magic that is somehow connected to you and connects me to your fucking feelings! Right now, you are feeling weak in your human form and you have bitten your tongue. You want to know how I know this? I can feel it. I can fucking feel it. So what exactly is this? And why did you have to weirdly connect myself to you?”

Wide-eyed, Loki gapes at the shorter man. He has seriously no idea what he is talking about. He hasn’t done anything, or at least he cannot remember doing anything at all.

“I did nothing to you.”

“Oh, now you feign confusion. What exactly should this mind-linking thing be for? Believing you? You are hiding your intentions pretty well, Loki, but it still doesn’t change the fact that I don’t believe you.”

With that, he smacks his hand across his face once again, aiming for his nose. In his rage, he misses it, but before Loki can move, Stark has his right hand enclosed to a fist.

Instinctively, he tries covering his face, but his hands are caught between their bodies, so instead he moves sideward, not realizing that this would give Stark a better angle. Which it does, when, one second later, blood is spilling out of his nose. For an instant, he doesn’t feel the pain, wincing only at the cracking sound his nose makes when colliding with Stark’s fist. The pain comes later, when the Man of Iron is realizing what he has done, and staring at Loki in surprise shortly, before going back to pure rage. This is when the pain kicks in and he has to grit his teeth not to cry out loudly.

“Why… did you… have… to do… that…?” he spits out between gritted teeth, still trying to get his hands free.

“Shouldn’t you answer me that question? Why did _you_ have to do this?” Stark aims for another punch, but this time, Loki jolts his knee upwards, kicking the shorter man in the pelvis. It hurts, when his knee cap hits a bone, but Stark hesitates for a moment, long enough for Loki to get both of his hands free.

“I didn’t do anything!” he cries out, gripping the collar of Stark’s shirt with both his hands. The other man tries to get his hands off him, but Loki puts all his strength in not letting go of Stark.

“Let me go!”, he shouts out, attempting to push the two off on one side, but Stark is only trying harder to keep him in place, his hands moving dangerously close to Loki’s throat. With all his strength, Loki continues trying to push him off, ripping Stark’s t-shirt in the process. He kicks his knees upwards, but misses Stark’s body, shoving his shoulders upwards, but the Iron Man has his hands already around his throat.

“Last chance, Reindeer Games. What the hell did you do to me?”

He feels the grip around his neck getting stronger, when he hammers against Stark’s now bare chest. His fingers cling onto something cool, metallic, something that does not belong there, and he is instinctively cupping it with his hand, aiming on pulling it out.

This is the second time in a matter of minutes, when time seems to stop.

The first thing he feels is Stark letting go of him, his whole body tensing and relaxing shortly after. He stares at him with eyes full of wonder, as if he isn’t able to make sense out of the situation, which Loki understands when he feels a wave of energy, starting from the tips of his fingers where he is touching the metallic ring, streaming through his body. For a moment, all he can feel is power. Then, suddenly he can _see_ it. He can see the connections, the traces of magic that are linking him to the energy. He can suddenly sense a deep, calming kind of satisfaction, that fills up his body, when he feels the magic knitting his nose back together, filling him with strength.

“What is this?” he can hear Stark whisper, and when he opens his eyes that he has instinctively closed, he can see the same satisfaction in his eyes that he is feeling right now.

He presses his fingers on the metal as hard as he can, trying to suck in the magic that is still streaming into him.

“I have no idea,” he can hear himself mumbling, and this time he knows Stark believes him.

 


	14. Attraction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to my wonderful beta lazyjayneislazy, but also to all those people who encourage me to write this fic. Thank you, my dear reviewers, I love all of you. :)  
> Also, this chapter got completely out of hand and I really hope you like it, because actually I do - and I'm sorry it is a whole lot shorter than the last one^^

The slightly damp hair beneath his fingertips is tickling his hands and he feels Loki’s breath hot against his skin. Their hearts are beating faster – at least he thinks he can hear Loki’s heart beating – but he can hear his blood pumping so loudly in his ears that he is not quite sure about it.

Green eyes, eyes that he was having nightmares about so often in the past couple of days, are staring at him, filled with surprise and wonder and for the first time he doesn’t feel the fear that he has become so familiar with when he looks at the God of Mischief, pinned on the floor with his hands still touching Tony’s chest.

“I do not understand,” Loki quietly mumbles, his eyes once again fixated on the arc reactor. Neither does Tony, he doesn’t understand the slightest what is going on right now. He feels like the magic is sucked out of him, getting slightly less with every minute that passes. With every bit of magic that leaves his body, the feeling that has settled in his chest, that feeling of something not quite belonging there, gets less and less, relieving a good portion of his stress. He feels himself relaxing on top of Loki. While he is unconsciously pressing his body further down on the taller man, he doesn’t even spend a single thought on how odd they must be looking right now, lying on top of each other, both breathing heavily.

After a while, he notices another emotion gaining prominence. At first, he can’t exactly tell what it is, that makes him suddenly feel touching his own skin, the other presence that is so strong it almost swallows his own. Then it hits him – he feels Loki, stronger than before, after all those hours he has spent trying to shake it off. He is inside of his head again. This time, it is not just fragments he can sense. There is a connection – he cannot describe it any better, an aura which radiates off almost every particle in the air, linking everything together. He takes a look at his arc reactor now, glowing in every color of the universe and suddenly he can see Loki’s fingertips glowing too, he can see the magic streaming inside of him.

And he understands. After all these days of wondering why Odin has chosen for Loki to get off so lightly, he understands that having this power, this connection taken away must be worse than any kind of torture. He senses Loki’s desire for more, as this is only a small, weak portion of what his true powers are, but nevertheless he is filled with happiness and satisfaction, when more and more magic is streaming through the arc reactor.

Tony, on the other hand, cannot even make out what he is feeling. There is this satisfaction, this strange kind of belonging coming from the magic that is left inside of him with every tiny bit that leaves his body, the happiness and wonder that radiates from Loki, who is still fixated on the arc reactor and his own relief when the power that doesn’t belong to him leaves his body, but he is too overwhelmed with every kind of emotion that he cannot exactly tell those feelings apart. After a while, he is unconsciously drawn closer to Loki and closes the last bit of distance between them, now fully lying on top of the other.

He knows, deep inside of him, that he should be appalled, but he isn’t. For the moment, it is perfect. He must have closed his eyes, fully concentrating on the magic, almost drowning in the range of emotions, when he feels his chest getting uncomfortably hot and a moment later, Loki is shoving him off, until he finds himself lying next to the trickster, breathing heavily. His arc reactor is burning uncomfortably, and for a moment he is grateful that the skin around it is a bit numb anyways.

“What was that?” he asks without opening his eyes, still a bit out of breath.

“I think the device in your chest could not handle the flow of magic, but I cannot say so for sure.”

Loki’s voice is different from what it was before – a bit deeper, stronger, like it had been when they first met four months ago. Curious, Tony opens his eyes again and examines the man lying next to him. His shadows under Loki’s eyes are gone, as well as the unhealthy color of his skin, and his hair is looking a lot smoother than before. All in all, he looks much healthier now than before, and from the magic that is still radiating from him, he can imagine pretty well why.

Without touching Loki, it is more difficult to make out the magical aura in the air, but it is still there, and so Tony doesn’t miss that the trickster’s hands, that glowed with magic a minute ago, are now almost back to normal. He also doesn’t miss out on the hint of disappointment on his face, which is immediately replaced with an indifferent look when he notices Tony’s arched brow. A second later, he is unable to sense the magic around them anymore. His eyes wide open; he is turning his head away from Loki and is staring at the ceiling. The helplessness that is rushing through his body is numbing everything else and for a moment he feels blind and weak _– like one of those mortals_ – until he realizes that it is not his emotion, but instead Loki’s, whose eyes are wide open in terror, unable to hide his feelings.

They do not speak for a while and slowly, bit by bit, the link between them is dying down again when Tony eventually calms down. In absolute silence they lie next to each other, each of them lost in thought, trying to process what has happened.

“I still haven’t gotten that drink, Stark. I would like to take you up on that offer.”

Still not speaking much, except for exchanging pleasantries, they find each other sitting on the bar stools a couple of minutes later, with two glasses filled with ice cubes and a dark golden liquid and a bottle of bourbon next to each other. Tony downs his drink in one gulp and with slight hesitation; Loki does the same, frowning, when the liquid floats down his throat.

“So, can you somehow explain to me what that was?” Tony tries again, again pouring bourbon in their glasses.

“I am still trying to understand how this could have been possible.” Loki shrugs, and downs another drink, this time able to keep a straight face when swallowing it.

“Then tell me about what you already know. Why does the magic behave like that? Why does it make me insane?” He puts down his glass, but doesn’t let go of it, his knuckles whitening with the force with which he is clutching it.

The trickster slowly shakes his head and smiles – and once again Tony wonders how it can possibly be that he is looking so much younger and healthier now than just a short while ago. He knows that the answer is magic, but he still hasn’t quite gotten his mind around the fact that magic exists.

“First, you owe me an apology, Stark.”

“I don’t think so. Take it as payback for slamming me on the ground and throwing me out of the window.”

Loki arches his brow, suddenly seeming quite amused.

“Fine with me. So it means we are even.” His smile grows bigger, making him once again look like a madman.

“Hey, stop that, you’ve killed 80 people in two days, led an army of aliens to destroy half of Manhattan and wanted to take over Earth! How can we ever be even?” His voice is louder than he had originally intended it to be, but he blames it on the alcohol and the strange mood the _incident_ or whatever he should call it has left him into.

“I have already been punished for that, Stark. And it had nothing to do with you. So yes, we are even.” He pours himself another drink and takes a small sip.

“Fine. So now, tell me what you know about the magic.”

“There is not much I can tell you, Stark. It obviously is my magic that is somehow trapped in your body. How, I do not know. But when I touched that metallic ring on your chest, it streamed back into my body, until said metallic ring could not take the amount of energy anymore and heated up too much.”

“I figured about that much myself. But what about those strange emotions? The magic somehow tried to bind myself to you.”

“That is because the magic is obviously trapped in the wrong body. You are a mere mortal, which means it cannot live to its full potential. From what I have heard, you suffered, or still suffer, from nightmares and panic attacks. This is the magic rebelling against you. It wants to leave your body, but it is trapped in it. Now it tries to link you to its original host – to me. You said you can feel my emotions? That is the magic, trying to bring us closer together.”

He stretches out his arm and lays his hand upon Tony’s holding it in place when Tony instinctively tries to remove it.

“Do you feel it? The attraction, the longing for more? The magic wants you to touch me. It is the only way it can stream back into my body.”

He feels it. No matter how much he wants to fight the desire that flames up his insides, no matter how much he tells himself that this is Loki, _Loki,_ who is touching him, that there is no way he would feel anything besides hate and disgust for him, for a moment, he is longing for the man next to him, longing for him to touch him. Again he feels magic streaming into the other’s body, but this time it is only a fragment of what it was before. Still, as Loki removes his fingers again, in an almost reluctant manner, he notices the overwhelmed look the God of Mischief is still wearing until it changes back into his mask of indifference.

“Why do you know all of this?”

“I did not. I simply guessed. This is pure magic we are speaking of, magical energy in his rawest form. It always urges to come back to its origins at all cost.”

“Like a boomerang,” Tony mutters, downing another drink.

Loki only furrows his brows at that, but doesn’t comment on it, instead he brushes his fingers over the rim of his glass.

“So why does it want us to touch so badly? Isn’t you touching the arc reactor enough?”

“It would seem the magic has already spread out in your body – the more I touch you, the greater is the amount that streams out of you.”

Loki is speaking nonchalantly, in an indifferent tone, as if he is talking about the weather and Tony is taking another sip of his bourbon just because of that.

“So why exactly were you telling me you don’t understand any of this?”

“Because it obviously does not make any sense. Stark, there should not be any magic in your body. Humans are not capable of storing magic – their bodies are too weak, which is why the magic has such an extreme effect on you. The magic should have vanished from your body in a matter of hours, but it has not.”

“Any idea why?”

“No. There are only a handful of materials capable of storing magic and none of them is found on Midgard.”

“What about my arc reactor? Fury told me most of the magic has been found in it, it obviously is the source.” He points on the glowing ring on his almost bare chest.

“What material is it made of?”

“Metal… and I kind of invented a new element for it.”

“I would seriously doubt that a mere mortal can create a material capable of storing magic. It would be highly coincidental.”

“Aren’t you back to earth to change your opinion of ‘mere mortals’?”

“Point made.”

They again sit in silence, having already emptied half of the bottle of bourbon. Tony tries not to think of the person next to him, and is instead  intensely staring into his glass, watching the ice cubes melt one after another, but he almost can’t fight the urge to move closer to Loki, which makes him feel sick.

“Having problems restraining yourself, Stark?”

“Fuck you.”

He grits his teeth and clenches his hands into fists, trying with all his willpower not to turn back to Loki, but with horror he notices his head turning anyway.

“What the fuck is this? Why does it have control over my body?”

His hands move to Loki, drawing the God of Mischief close.

“As I said, Stark, mortals are too weak for storing magic. It simply overpowers you.”

Hesitantly, Loki puts his fingers on the arc reactor again, steadying Tony as he almost doubles over when the magic starts streaming out of his body.

“Why are you doing this?”

Loki only smirks, and his hands find their way under Tony’s shirt, touching the bare skin beneath it.

“I have my own motives, Stark. It is, after all, my magic. And the only way of having access to it is through touching you.”

“You mischievous bastard,” Tony hisses, when his hands draw Loki’s face closer and his lips crash onto the other’s.

“Don’t fight it. You want nothing more than the magic out of your body, Stark. This is only a small price to pay,” Loki whispers against his lips, forcing his tongue into Tony’s mouth.

It is disgusting. Purely, utterly disgusting, how the desire washes over him, how he is longing to press even closer against Loki’s body. It is disgusting, how he feels himself opening his mouth and welcoming in Loki’s tongue, disgusting how his hands finally find their way under the trickster’s shirt and caress the smooth and perfect skin. It is disgusting to taste Loki inside of his mouth, to smell him, to feel the black locks tickling his skin, disgusting to feel Loki’s hands move upwards between his shoulder blades, making him moan against the other’s mouth when he digs his nails into Tony’s skin. Every touch is electrifying him, making his skin tickle and he must bring all of his willpower up not to moan again.

 _Disgusting_. He shudders when Loki’s hands are touching his groin area and continues pressing himself even tighter against the trickster. His fingers run through Loki’s long, pitch-black hair, which still isn’t entirely dry, forcing his head down to intensify the kiss. His hands leave his hair, trying to frantically open the buttons on Loki’s shirt, pressing his chest against him, until the arc reactor touches the bare skin. The effect is tremendous, Tony feels as if sparks are running through his body and for a moment, the only thing he can feel is completion, when Loki’ arms once again spread around him, giving him goose bumps every inch their skin touches.

The moment of perfection is ruined an instant later, when Tony’s arc reactor again starts burning his skin.

“Fuck!” he growls and pushes himself off Loki, but the trickster grabs his hand tightly.

“Don’t move”, he hisses, staring down at his free hand, his brows furrowed in concentration.

Tony’s eyes follow Loki’s gaze, and they widen when he sees greenish energy wavering around the trickster’s hand.

In a matter of seconds, faster than Tony can react in his shocked and slightly drunken state, Loki’s fingers are pressing onto the skin beneath the arc reactor.

He closes his eyes, waiting for any kind of pain.

But the pain never arrives and the trickster’s fingers are gone faster than his mind can progress.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Tony spits out as soon as Loki relinquishes the grip around his wrist.

“I was healing you, you oaf. The _arc reactor_ burnt your skin.”

Instinctively, Tony looks down on his chest. His skin, which was red and slightly burnt only moments ago, looks as if it was new.

“How is it even possible for you to use magic?” he asks instead of thanking him.

Loki only smiles and shrugs, examining his hands.

“I can only guess. Runes, like those on my arms, are very strong and almost unbreakable, but on the other hand they only work very slowly. So every time I touch you, magic floats into me from outside, and I am able to use it, before it is sealed away by those runes.”

“I guess I need a good night’s sleep after all of this.”

Tony takes a few steps backwards, turning around only when there’s enough distance between him and Loki.

“This stays between us.”

He is glad he had told JARVIS to turn off.  


“Wait, Stark.”

“What?” Tony turns around again, now halfway across the room from the trickster.

“I have a proposition to make. We need to do this again.”

“Why?” He’d rather not, seriously. He turns to the door again, but before he is able to push down the handle, Loki is already next to him, dangerously close.

“It is the only way for you to dispose of the magic. It is regenerating very fast.”

Tony slowly shakes his head, skeptically looking at the trickster.

“This is not the only reason, is it? Why would you even care otherwise?”

Loki only smirks, his face is so close to Tony’s, their noses almost touch.

“I want to find out if I can alter the runes, or completely remove them from my body. But I need you, Stark. I can only use magic if I touch you, and I need much more than this to even access them.”

“I thought only the one who carved them can remove or alter them?”

“Do you not have any faith in me, mortal? I am Loki of Asgard, one of the most skilled sorcerers.”

His hands are dangerously close and it seems Loki may reach out for him any moment now, so Tony takes a step back. Something about this man, even with ruffled hair and a half-opened shirt makes him highly uncomfortable.

“Right. But what makes you so sure I don’t just go and tell Fury and the rest of S.H.I.E.L.D. , Rudolph?”

“Because I am quite sure you won’t decline my offer.”

He moves closer again and pins Tony to the wall next to the door in a swift move.

“I can try to teach you how to control the magic inside of you. It will be difficult and I cannot promise you it will work completely. But I promise you to teach you how to control it and everything you want to know. Needless to say, it would be unwise to tell Fury any of this.”

With that, he is gone, closing the door and leaving behind an utterly disturbed Tony.

 


	15. Curse marks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, I don't like this one very much and I almost rewrote it, but I was already halfway through it, so I didn't actually want to anymore.  
> Sooo... I don't know if this one answers any questions, on the contrary, I think it raises a few new ones. I'll try answering all your questions... some day. xD  
> Also, please note that this fic now has more than 40 k words and 15 chapters. That's a new record for me. But we're only at the beginning - remember, Loki has only arrived on Midgard a couple of days ago - I intend for him to stay a while longer.  
> I hope you like it :)
> 
> (Note to myself - I should upload the banners for the last couple of chapters, but I don't have time^^)

When he gets back into his chambers, Loki collapses on the sofa. It isn’t a thing he usually does, showing weakness, not even when he is all by himself, but after months of constant supervision, after having been watched all day long, even when he had been sleeping and especially after Stark had told him he was able to read his emotions, he could not care less of being monitored by JARVIS, who might or might not report to Stark. But still, even while lying face-down on the sofa and smelling the strange scent of Midgardian textile, which does not at all resemble the scent of leather, cotton or linen, but instead has something artificial on it that serves him once more as a reminder of how different this realm is from Asgard, he cannot fully relax.

He can only hope Stark is not too focused on him right now, because otherwise his emotions could easily give away what he prefers to hide from the mortal. He needs Stark’s trust more than anything, even though he had come up with that plan only midway through their ‘conversation’. But truth be told, he is not at all sure if humans can control Aesir magic. Or, to be more precise, _his_ magic. After what had happened the last year, he is not sure what nature his magic even belongs to.

Is it Jötun? A part of it is, but he cannot be sure if his magic is truly Jötun in nature.

Is it Aesir? It had passed as Aesir in the past, even though it had excelled those of Asgardian sorcerers with ease.

He had never been particularly interested in how magic is formed, if it lies purely in the nature of the species that performs it, or if the nature of the magic itself can be formed and changed through particular techniques. Of course, he read every book about magic he could find in the libraries of Asgard when he was younger. But true magic is such a rare gift in Asgard, a gift only reserved for the most powerful of each generation.

After a few moments he sits up, swallows his emotions and tries to think about something different, but he cannot get the uncertainty out of his head. How much time does he have until Stark figures out he does not even know if they could ever manage to dispose of the magic in his body completely? Much more importantly, how much time does he have to break his runes and disappear, preferably to another realm?

He has to be fast, that is for sure. But not only that – he has to make sure nobody except for Stark knows about his plan. It would have been easier not to tell Stark, but he cannot be sure if the mortal can feel if he is lying, also it would be almost impossible to hide what he was going to do.

Absent-mindedly he brushes over his runes, which again do not make much sense to him. It feels strange – the fact that only minutes ago he had been fully able to read those runes, to make sense of them, but now, when looking at them, all he can see are foreign forms written in black ink, which contrast considerably against his pale skin. Whoever had carved these runes into his skin, must have been greatly skilled.

His brushing steadily becomes more of a scratching, when he tries to remember every detail of the rune’s nature, but he can only recall blurry fragments of what had seemed perfectly clear when he had touched Stark. Sighing, he straightens and turns around to look out of the oversized window, trying to familiarize himself with the view.

A part of him doubts that he would ever be able to alter the runes. The odds are clearly against him – not only does he have to be fast, he also has to somehow fight against the desire – the desire to suck up every bit of magic that leaves Stark’s body. He somehow has to keep his head clear, to be able to concentrate on the runes, but if their next encounter will be anything like this one, he admittedly has no idea how.

But it has to work. It is his only chance to gain his magic back. He still cannot think of anything that would make him worthy of his magic again, in the sense Odin wants him to. The Allfather had made it perfectly clear how lowly he thinks of him, so why would he not take the chance to ban him to this planet in a way he can never bother him again?

He would play this game by his own rules.

He takes his eyes off the window when a wave of tiredness hits him and heads straight to his bedroom, without looking back.

*             *             *

He finds himself in what JARVIS had called an _elevator_ many hours later, after having slept more peacefully than he would have thought. The tiny room is an installation that allows mortals to move between floors somewhat faster than taking the stairs; JARVIS had told him without Loki even having to ask. Only seconds later, the door opens again to a room yet unbeknownst to him. In contrast to his own chambers and the glass fronts of the light-flooded room he had met Stark in the day before; this one is illuminated by artificial lights which are burning Loki’s eyes. The walls are clad with steel and he notices the complete lack of visible doors. In the middle of the quite spacious room Loki finds a table, surrounded by chairs.

He steps out of the _elevator_ , hesitating. JARVIS woke him up half an hour ago, saying he would be expected to come here and meet with the Avengers, but for now Loki seems to be alone. He walks around the room, staring at the different machines – various translucent screens clad the walls, including an enormous one at the head of the table and other Midgardian technology he hasn’t seen before.

“Loki.”

He spins around instantly at the call of his name, only to see the red-haired spy standing dangerously close, sneering at him.

“Romanoff. What a pleasure.”

The woman opens her mouth, but before she can say something, the doors of the elevator open again soundlessly.

“Do you think this is really necessary? Because I’m pretty sure it isn’t.” Stark is gesticulating wildly at Rogers, who only furrows his brows and crosses his arms in front of his chest.

“You heard Fury yourself, Stark”, Rogers mumbles, obviously annoyed.

_What is going on?_

He tries to look into Stark’s eyes, trying to somehow communicate with him, but the Man of Iron is avoiding his gaze, staring at his feet without looking up.

By now, most of the Avengers have gathered around him and Loki is sure they do not quite know how to handle him as everyone actively tries to ignore him except for Romanoff, who is still watching him intensely. The archer and the doctor immediately speak to Stark in hushed voices as soon as they enter the room and Loki is lost in thought of what they are talking about, as they make it almost impossible for him to overhear their conversation, that he almost doesn’t notice the door of the elevator opening again.

When Thor walks out of the elevator, again clad in Midgardian clothes which make him look ridiculous, Mjölnir dangling on his belt, he seems to take in the room before his eyes search for Loki’s.

_Don’t come near._

A wave of agony is hitting him and he instinctively takes a couple of steps back. With a short glance to Stark, who _is_ looking at him this time, he is almost sure the mortal can feel his emotions right now. Thor is actually coming closer, stretching a hand out to him one tiny bit and opens his mouth long before words leave him.

“Brother, I…” he mumbles, almost inaudible, and everything inside of Loki clenches at his choice of words. He wants to turn around, not having to look at Thor, when he is hardly handling the anger, but he feels Thor’s hand grabbing his shoulder tightly, making him unable to move.

“Allrighty, now that all of you are here, take a seat and let this damn show begin. JARVIS, do what you have to do.”

Reluctantly, Thor lets go of him and let’s himself fall onto the nearest chair, Loki seats himself at the greatest distance to him as possible, not caring about who is sitting next to him.

One of the screens comes into life, and Nick Fury’s oversized face appears, the S.H.I.E.L.D. emblem behind him. Which would explain what they were gathering for.

“For those who don’t know why we’re meeting”, Fury says, looking in his direction, and Loki feels a shiver running down his spine at the sheer loudness of his voice, as if he were present, while in fact he obviously isn’t, “we need to sort out a couple of problems. Stark, we could have done this in S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ, with trained staff ensuring nothing’s happening to you, but either way – Loki, I need you to examine Stark, find out what spell you hit him with. And don’t even think of not telling the truth.”

Before Loki can say anything, he hears someone sucking in a sharp breath next to him. It is Stark, staring at Fury, not even trying to cover his discomfort and shock.

“Now?” is all that leaves his lips.

“Yes, Stark. Now. The sooner we know something, the better. Loki, if you plan on fucking with us, take a look at who is with you in this room.”

This won’t end well, he is sure of it. But instead he only nods, turning his chair to face Stark. What if Fury told the truth about him basically being their slave, bound to do whatever they want from him? He would not dare to make a wrong move, not now, when there is even the slightest chance to somehow break free from here. So what else can he do than play by the rules?

“Care to explain what you are planning on doing?” Fury asks when Loki is reluctantly reaching for Stark’s hand, hoping that the magic in Stark is still weak enough to not let the mortal lose his mind completely at the touch.

“As I am… not capable of seeing the aura every curse leaves behind, I have to look for much subtler traces – differently colored pupils, marks on the skin or anything unusual. I am sure _Thor_ will confirm this.”

“He is telling the truth”, comes the curt answer.

He would love to skip this. After what had happened the day before, he is not sure at all how to deal with this situation, and one glance in Stark’s direction is enough to know he is not the only one unsure of how to act.

Without Thor, he would be able to feign examining Stark without actually doing so. After all, he knows it is pure magic, not a curse, and so he knows he is not going to find any marks or whatsoever on the mortal. But unfortunately, he himself had told Thor a long time ago how to detect curses. He knows the rules – looking for any unusual marking on the hands, the neck region or the shoulders – anything from widened veins to strangely arranged birthmarks. Usually, without a trained eye, it is almost impossible to find any curse marks, but for Loki they are easy to find. The only problem being that there is nothing to find here, as Stark isn’t cursed; it is pure magical energy that is streaming through his body.

“Give me your hand”, Loki almost whispers, blocking out the Avengers and Fury watching him, the strange, almost hostile environment he finds himself in, being stared at like some wild animal, about to go on a rampage any second. He blocks out everything, even Thor, looking at him with what could be called indifference, but Loki knows better – he seems hurt. He blocks out everything until there is only Stark left before him, hesitating to stretch out his arm. Eventually though, he does so, his hand now directly in front of Loki, only millimeters away.

It feels like tiny thunderbolts on every inch of his skin that is touching Starks hand, giving him goosebumps, as the magic, albeit only an incredibly small amount is streaming inside of him.

_Stay calm, Stark. If you want to avoid any questions, just stay calm._

He feels the urge of touching Stark more intensely, the longing for more, which is lingering inside him grows stronger. He is only touching the mortal’s fingertips by now, not daring to properly touch him. But still, he has to, as even after all the effort of blocking out everyone, he can still feel Thor’s gaze on him. Carefully, he is brushing over Stark’s skin, looking for marks and trying to ignore the aura of magic which is building up around Stark, hoping that no one besides him can see it. He cannot be sure, of course – Thor had always claimed not to be able to see magical auras, but he wouldn’t be the God of Lies if he did not take everything with a grain of salt. Carefully, he turns around Stark’s hand; Thor’s ever watchful gaze on him feeling like it is burning through his skin.

What would he give for this hand to press upon his skin, for drawing the other one closer, sucking in every bit of magic that is leaking out of the human’s body. His eyes eventually lock with Stark’s, who is suppressing a moan, when Loki pulls his head closer to check his eyes for any trace of magic in them. Unconsciously, he licks his lips when he sees the mortal gritting his teeth in an attempt to not jump him right now, and forces himself to increase the distance between them again.

“Why can’t you search for those curse-marks instead of him, Thor?” he hears Romanoff mutter after a while and he opens his mouth to answer that yes, this would be a great idea, while his hands are still resting on Stark’s skin and he is trying to withstand the urge of pressing his whole body against the human.

“Loki is much more experienced in that matter, I am sorry I cannot help”, comes Thor’s toneless reply before Loki has the chance. He glances to the thunderer, whose eyes are watching him intensely, _knowingly_.

He feels Stark beside him breathing faster, his hands trembling. He would not make it much longer before the magic was completely taking over.

“There is seems to be nothing that indicates any curse. No spell marks.” He lets go of Stark, who is visibly relaxing.

“Everything alright with you?” Banner asks Stark quietly and the mortal nods without taking his eyes off Loki.

“So why should we even believe you?” the archer, Barton, asks suspiciously.

“He’s telling the truth. I felt it. He hasn’t found anything. I have this strange connection to him, don’t ask, it’s creepy, but I can tell if he’s lying.”

Fury only nods, he seems to already know from Stark’s connection to him.

“So how do we proceed? Is there any way for you to give us useful information about the nature of this magic and how to get rid of it? Because that’s why you’re here, in case you forgot.”

He needs to buy time. After all, even though he doubts Midgardian technology can remove magic, he still needs to be sure he has his powers back before S.H.I.E.L.D. finds a way to dispose of Stark’s problem themselves.

“I need books”, he simply says after a moment of consideration. “Asgardian books.”

“Odin will not allow any Asgardian books on Midgard.” Thor’s voice is certain.

“It may be Stark’s only chance. I cannot assure he will survive being exposed to the magic for long.”

“I want to talk to my brother, privately please.” In a sudden move Thor stands up, almost knocking over his chair. Stark only nods to no one in particular and a small door, invisible in its closed state, opens, Thor disappearing outside. Reluctantly, Loki follows him, not without noticing Fury’s frown.

“What is it?” he inquires as soon as the door closes behind them, hoping for Thor not to say anything inconsiderate – after all, they could easily be watched.

“Which books do you need, exactly?” is what the thunderer asks instead.

“Anything. Old magic, spells, effects on other species.”

“You already know what it is, do not fool me brother”, Thor whispers, but Loki still shoots him a glance.

“I have a… theory, but without the books I might never know if it is true”, he lies instead, locking his eyes with the thunderer’s.

 _I know exactly what your plan is._ Thor does not speak, but he does not need to for Loki to know exactly what he is thinking.

“I am surprised you do not demand any books on runes”, Thor mumbles, breaking their eye contact.

“What do you mean by that?”

There is silence between them for once more. Thor is brushing Mjölnir’s handle with his fingers, staring at his feet.

“I will try to bring you those books, but it will probably take me a while before I am able to come back.”

His eyes say something different, though.

_I hope you know what you are doing._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please feed my muse with your wonderful comments :)


	16. Lust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I suck at uploading regularly. I have a summer job, that's why I can't write any faster and I'm REALLY tired every time I get to write, which is why this chapter isn't exactly great. But hey, I'm one step closer to smut. Enjoy!

Chapter 16

 

The meeting is declared over not long after Thor and Loki leave the room, but Tony doesn’t leave like the others. Instead, he stays where he is, sitting on the chair, bent over with his forehead resting on the table, while his fingers run through his hair, yanking at it.

_So damn close._

He can still feel every inch of his skin where Loki’s fingers had touched him burning like fire and a shiver runs down his spine when he thinks of it. So close and Tony even might have started to moan, to grab the trickster god and plant a kiss on these delicious lips, to rip the clothes off his body, to touch him – every inch of him, to peel those black pants off him that are too tight anyways…

There is no way this is ever going to happen.

But nevertheless he bites his lip and lets out a groan when he feels his cock twitch at the thought of Loki, naked, his pale, almost white skin without any imperfection, standing before him, one corner of the mouth raised to a mischievous half-smile, coming closer, stretching his hands out for him, his body pressing unnecessarily close to undress him, piece by piece, as if they had all the time in the world. He can almost smell him, the fresh scent of lemon and something so undeniably different from everything he has smelled before, something that makes him want to dig his nose into the pitch-black hair of the god and suck in every last bit of it. His thoughts wander off until he can almost feel Loki’s hands caressing the skin on his back, sending off little fireworks in Tony’s head when the trickster’s fingers brush over his shoulder blades and his breath tickles his skin. He feels Loki’s fingers moving down his body, leaving a trail of goose bumps on Tony’s skin, shortly caressing his nipples which are already hard and oversensitive, tickling his skin on the way to his belly-button and finally – finally reach his cock, which is by now so hard that it hurts.

Moaning, Tony imagines Loki touching his erection with his long, delicate fingers, brushing over it, but withdrawing his hand after a moment, only to plant his hands around his neck, leaning in for a kiss. One of his hands finds its way to his cock a second later, this time gripping it firmly, when Loki gets down on his knees and moves his head forward until his lips touch his cock so lightly Tony almost doesn’t feel it, but he _can_ feel the trickster’s tongue brushing over it a moment later, leaving a trail of saliva and he lets out a deep groan when Loki’s lips part even further, his hands moving to his ass, shoving Tony closer and he can feel the wetness of Loki’s hot mouth, his lips enclosed tightly around his cock.

“You’re still here?”

Cursing inwardly, Tony moves his hand out of his pants, where it had found its way in and tries to keep his throbbing erection hidden under the table. He turns his head, surprised to find Bruce there, still halfway inside the elevator, seemingly oblivious to what Tony had been doing.

“I… I wanted to know what Thor and Loki had been talking about outside,” he stammers in a completely untypical manner, cursing himself inwardly for not coming up with a better excuse than that – after all, Bruce usually didn’t like him looking through footage and spying on people. Nevertheless it’s better than the truth – jerking off at the thought of Loki.

Bruce only raises his eyebrows slightly. “Have you already had a look at it?” he asks; to Tony’s surprise he sounds interested.

“No, I haven’t. Why are you here anyways?”

“I’ve been looking for you, to be honest. Haven’t seen you since we got back to the tower yesterday and we haven’t had a chance to talk.”

Tony smiles at that, still trying to calm down his twitching cock. Thankfully, Bruce is slightly turned away from him, so that the doc can’t see it.

“Admit it, your yearning for my company got so strong you couldn’t take it anymore. You’re a lost case, Banner, blinded by my charisma and ingenuity.”

A moment later, Tony’s head is hit by Bruce’s knuckles.

“Dream on. So where’s the footage? I’m usually not for spying on other people. But I’m really interested in this one, especially since Thor has already left for Asgard.”

Tony almost turns around to Bruce in disbelief, but instead just turns his head to see him smirk and shrug.

“Well then… JARVIS, show us the footage.”

“Certainly, Sir.”

The huge screen at the head of the table is lit and Thor and Loki appear on it from multiple perspectives. Loki still looks strange in dark jeans and a black shirt, without any armor on and so does Thor, who doesn’t look the least bit less intimidating in a t-shirt and jogging pants than he does in his Asgardian clothes.

“What is it?” Loki asks, his arms crossed in front of his chest. His voice sounds uncertain and his eyes wander off to the ceiling as if they were searching for a camera.

 “Which books do you need, exactly?” Thor’s voice is the exact opposite of his usual loud and thunderous tone; instead it is soft and calm, but Tony isn’t fooled by this, instead he can see Thor’s hand unconsciously reaching for Mjölnir, his thumb brushing against it. And without having to search Loki’s face for any emotion, he knows the trickster knows exactly that Thor is at least as tense as he is himself.

“Anything. Old magic, spells, effects on other species.” Loki’s voice is trembling slightly and he constantly clenches and unclenches his fists.

“You already know what it is, do not fool me brother.” Thor’s voice is barely audible, and Tony and Bruce exchange surprised glances at this.

“I didn’t think Thor could whisper,” Bruce mumbles, his eyes fixated on the screen again.

“I have a… theory, but without the books I might never know if it is true.”

That’s a lie, everything in Tony starts screaming and he can hardly keep himself from snorting at this statement.

“Do you think he tells the truth?” Bruce has moved a bit closer, his hand resting on Tony’s shoulder.

“I… I have no idea.”

“But can’t you kind of read his emotions? Can’t you tell if he tells the truth or not?”

He swallows before answering that question. A part of him wants to tell Bruce everything – the messed up situation he finds himself in, the fact that he has made out with Loki, the way he is attracted to the trickster, the exchange of magic whenever he touches him – but when he opens his mouth, nothing comes out. He simply can’t tell him. Something, he is pretty sure it is the magic, is keeping him from telling Bruce his secret.

“I can read his emotions, you’re right, but I can’t control it and it goes on and off all the time, so I couldn’t tell if he lied or not when the two of them were talking.”

His eyes find their way back to the screen, where he can see Thor and Loki staring at each other intensely. They seem as if they don’t need words to communicate, because after a moment, Thor breaks the eye contact and Loki looks taken aback.

 “I am surprised you do not demand any books on runes.”

Bruce again side-eyes Tony and he almost blurts out _me too_ and has to actually bite his tongue not to.

“What do you mean by that?” Loki’s eyes are searching for an answer in Thor’s mimic, but he seems to fail. For an instant, there is terror in the trickster’s face, but it is soon replaced by a rather nervous-looking but altogether indifferent mask. Thor doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t need to – Loki seems to understand him either way. The thunderer’s hand rests on Mjölnir’s handle again, brushing over it, as if he wanted to threaten Loki with it, before he lets go of it.

 “I will try to bring you those books, but it will probably take me a while before I am able to come back.” He voice is undeniably louder than before, his tone the one Tony has grown used to – thunderous, god-like and rough, not gentle and quiet like the one which seems to be specifically reserved for Loki.

But his eyes tell something completely different – something Tony cannot decipher, but Loki does, he is sure of it, because there is a tiny nod, barely visible, a movement that is over by the fracture of a second. Thor swiftly turns around and walks down the corridor, Mjölnir hitting his thighs with every step he takes.

“JARVIS, tell the Avengers and Nicholas Fury that I will be gone for a while, visiting Asgard.”

“I will do that, Mr. Odinson.”

For a moment, Thor cannot be seen on any of the footage, but JARVIS solves this problem without Tony having to say anything and once again he is amazed at his own programming skills that allow the AI to act that smoothly.

“How do you think you will get those books, Thor?” Loki is asking suddenly, his voice weak. He leans next to the door that leads back into the conference room, suddenly looking so much smaller than Thor, his civilian clothing only adding to that fact.

“I will do whatever is necessary. Don’t worry about this.” Thor takes a couple of steps back to Loki, and for once, Tony can see nothing but the loving but concerned big brother in him, for a split-second, this is all he is.

“You will have to steal them.” Loki’s voice is almost inaudible; his eyes are fixated on the ground.

“As I said, I will do what I have to. Now farewell, brother.”

“Why?” This time, Loki’s voice breaks, he makes several steps towards his brother, looking nothing like the villain that wanted to destroy parts of New York and rule Earth, now, with his hair falling down on his shoulders in loose curls, his sunken shoulders which are making him so much smaller, vulnerable, broken. But again, this image only lasts for the blink of an eye – the trickster god is back as soon as he was gone, watching Thor cautiously.

“No matter what you think, you are my family, Loki.”

Loki says nothing; he only stares silently after Thor, who is making his way out of the tower. It is hard to tell if Thor’s words have touched anything in the trickster, when he stands there in the middle of the corridor, staring at the spot Thor stood seconds before, standing perfectly still.

“Family, huh?” Bruce breaks the silence when the screen goes black. “I’m not sure what to think about that.”

“Me neither,” Tony admits, his heart suddenly pounding heavily.

“We have basically just witnessed Thor saying that he will steal some books from Asgard, haven’t we? But still, I have the feeling that I have missed something.” Bruce lets himself fall into the chair next to Tony, scratching the tip of his nose.

“Whatever, bud. I guess we better not talk about this. Whatever Point Break’s up to, I think he hasn’t quite thought it through.”

“Exactly.”

They sit next to each other in silence, a silence that lasts long enough for Tony to notice the lust again which is slumbering inside of him, waiting for an opportunity to come out and mess with his head. He imagines Loki, broken and vulnerable, his pale hands contrasting against Tony’s tanned skin, his smile crooked and sad, not quite reaching his deeply green eyes.

“Bruce, I gotta go, see you later,” he hisses, getting up and into the elevator as fast as he can, leaving behind a pretty confused Doctor Banner.

“Are you okay Tony?” Bruce shouts when the doors are closing and Tony isn’t quite sure if he heard his reply as the elevator moves down to his lab.

He practically storms out of the elevator as soon as he reaches his lab and heads for the magic tracker that still lies on one of his desks, right where he had left it.

“JARVIS, I need the data from S.H.I.E.L.D. – I need to know how high my magic levels have been when they tested me.”

“I have already done that, Sir. Your magic levels are about half as high as Mr. Laufeyson’s,” JARVIS replies immediately.

“Thanks, buddy. You’re the best.” Tony whistles through his teeth, and begins to stick the electrodes onto his chest. This time, the arc reactor stays where it is – even if he wanted to remove it, the magic probably wouldn’t let him. The test doesn’t take long. He can’t even feel it this time and it’s over in under a minute.

“Sir, your current level of magic is at 97 per cent compared to yesterday.”

After all the magic exchange happening yesterday, he is still at 97 per cent? How is that even possible?

“JARVIS, what am I going to do now?”

“The only thing I can tell you is that Mr. Laufeyson is not to be trusted, but you probably already know that.”

“I know. But I won’t have a choice. I need to get rid of that magic.” Tony pulls off the electrodes again, his eyes locked at the screen. 97 per cent. Not that it tells much, he definitely has to do further testing in order to know how fast his body is able to regenerate magic, but all in all it seems to do so pretty fast. That or the amount of magic inside of him has taken on an unbelievable scale.

After a few moments of silence, JARIVS speaks again.

“Be careful, Mr. Stark.”

“I will, buddy.”

*             *             *

Not long after leaving the lab, he finds himself knocking at the door of Loki’s apartment and after he doesn’t get any response, he just opens the door and goes inside.

“Loki?” He can hear his voice echoing from the walls.

“I can’t remember having let you in.”

Loki appears in front of him, still in black trousers and black shirt, his hair braided loosely.

“It’s my tower. You don’t have to let me in.” Tony comes closer to the trickster, until they are only inches apart and finds his fingers twirling the loose ends of Loki’s braid; he withdraws his hand immediately and finds Loki’s eyes following the movement.

“What do you want, Stark?” The trickster’s voice is cold, but Tony is sure he can hear uncertainty out of it, the same uncertainty that resonated in Loki’s voice when he was speaking to Thor.

“I want to get rid of the magic.”

He is awfully close now, so close that he can smell Loki’s breath which is tickling his skin. His eyes are locked with the tricksters’ when he shoves him ungently against the next wall and he can instantly feel Loki’s hands pressing onto his shoulder blades, urging him to come even closer than he is now.

“I want you to accept our deal,” Loki whispers in his ear, making him shiver as his lips touch Tony’s earlobes and he can feel the trickster’s hands reaching for Tony’s hair, he feels Loki digging his fingers into his dark brown locks, tugging them lightly in the process. It doesn’t hurt, but it makes Tony hiss with pleasure and his hands find Loki’s face, pulling it closer.

“Can you teach me how to suppress this… desire?” he whispers, his lips lightly touching Loki’s cheek.

“I can try.” Loki’s lips find Tony’s for a short, mocking peck that makes Tony lust for more.

There is hardly anything he wouldn’t do right now, which is why he takes Loki’s face in both of his hands, tracing the perfectly smooth skin which is almost glowing white where the sunrays that find their way into the hall hit him.

“Then it’s a deal.”

This time, it is Tony who presses his lips on Loki’s, lightly biting his lower lip until Loki starts moaning against his mouth.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments please? :D


	17. Intimacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get smutty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is. Smut. Lots of it. A first-timer for me - except for the couple of scenes in the last chapters, I've never written smut before. I hope you like it. You can consider this chapter a filler chapter, but.. well. ;)
> 
> If you don't like smut and don't want to read the chapter, just start reading at "His hand is somehow locked with Stark's..." towards the end of the chapter. 
> 
> If you like smut, have fun with it and tell me if it needs improvement. I hope I did somehow okay for the first time.

He can barely think of anything else than Stark’s body pressed against him, the mortal’s hands in his hair and his hot lips on his skin. His hands have already found their way under Stark’s clothes, lightly touching the skin underneath, which feels so much different from Aesir skin – rough, full of imperfections, much less smooth than his own, but he thinks he likes the feeling, so he brushes his fingertips against it, starting at the shoulder blades and then moving forward, until he finds a pair of already hard nipples that get even harder when he touches their delicate skin. Stark lets out a moan, his breath hot against his ear, and pulls him closer until he can hardly ignore the throbbing erection pressing against him.

He feels his own cock harden when Stark starts rubbing his erection against his crotch area and for once he is glad about wearing Midgardian clothing, which is much more expansible than his leather pants and robes could ever be. He grabs the mortal’s backside with both of his hands and presses Stark against him until he almost screams with pleasure, pleasure that partly derives from the fact that Stark’s lips are now on his neck, planting kisses on his skin, kisses that turn more and more into bites. Loki’s hand’s move upwards again, his fingers digging into the skin of Stark’s lower back, when the mortal’s bites intensify and he begins to suck on his skin.

Then there is magic, all around them, with every second growing more and more intense, until Loki almost can’t bear it anymore. His hands are by now already glowing with pale blue energy that sends off sparks every time it touches Stark.

Amidst all the pleasure, Stark’s kisses and the fact that his erection urgently wants to be released from the by now too tight pants, he feels strangely powerful, when the magic runs through his veins, intensifying every touch, every feeling a thousand times.

“Bedroom”, the mortal whispers in his ear and starts nibbling at his earlobe. By now, the sensation of Stark touching him is almost unbearable – magic is streaming into his body from so many directions at once, immediately heightening his senses, so that he can almost _hear_ the fine hair on the back of Stark’s neck rise, when he carefully brushes along his spine. The magic doesn’t completely feel like his own, partly because it has inhabited Stark for so long now, and because his body is at least partly made human due to the runes, but still it is the closest he has come to feeling like himself in months.

Still. The overwhelming feeling that both heightens and blocks out his senses at once and makes him shiver and long for more and makes him never want to let go of Stark again is completely new. He does not know if it is the magic that is controlling him like it controls Stark, dictating him every move, making him feel lust and desire for a man he despises, or if it is him subconsciously trying to cling on the idea of having his powers back again. In the end, this does not matter. What matters is that for the first time in months, he is actually enjoying himself. And although he would rather not think about what he is doing right now, he does not want to stop either.

“Hold onto me as tightly as you can,” he whispers and for a moment, his eyes find Stark’s, who looks at him with confusion but does as he is told. Loki closes his eyes, blocking out Stark’s breath on his skin, his erection pressing against his leg and his fingers digging into his shoulder blades, but instead concentrates on the magic that is by now floating through his body, completely overwhelming the binding power of the runes. One of his hands finds the mortal’s arc reactor, which is cool against Stark’s hot and flushed skin and he presses his fingers onto it, sucking in every bit of magic he can get and making Stark hiss when the energy is almost flooding his body.

He can do it.

Everything goes slower than he is used to – the magic, which is still his but not quite, is not immediately obeying him and it takes much more willpower than usual. Also, there is Stark, whose presence he can’t completely block out, sucking at his neck again and making it almost impossible to concentrate, but after a few moments of gathering his powers, trying to find his balance within the energy inhabiting him and the magic he can feel everywhere around him, he is ready.

A moment later they find themselves in the bedroom. Loki feels exhausted for a second, but after his fingers find the arc reactor again, his exhaustion completely vanishes. He opens his eyes, only to find himself eye to eye with Stark, whose eyes are widened in surprise.

“We just teleported.” His voice is toneless and although he is still pushing himself against Loki, his hands let go of him, running through his own hair instead.

“I didn’t take you for someone who states the obvious, Stark,” Loki whispers, trying to pull Stark closer again, but the human pushes him away, making a couple of steps back. Loki approaches him again – he does not want to stop, not now, when he feels so powerful, so strong. But Stark thinks otherwise, keeping him at arm’s length.

“Stay away. I just remembered that I wanted to fuck you. The little magic trick you just did made me a bit more conscious about my actions again. So fuck off, Rudolph.”

All Loki can do is smiling at Stark’s words, be it for the huge bulk he can make out in the mortal’s pants, or the still lustful expression in his eyes.

“Are you sure you don’t want to continue this?” He ignores Stark’s attempt to push him away and stretches out an arm, hooking his finger under the mortal’s chin, forcing him to look into his eyes.

“Yes,” comes Stark’s rather breathless answer, but his body speaks otherwise. His arms, an instant ago on Loki’s shoulders, shoving him away, go limp again and his hips move forward, until he is rubbing against Loki’s crotch again.

“Your actions contradict your words, mortal,” Loki hisses, gripping Stark’s shirt and pulling him closer, only to whirl him around until Stark’s back faces the bed and pushes him onto it. He follows an instant later, crawling over Stark and pinning his hands over his head.

“JARVIS, darken the room a bit and go offline”, he hears the mortal mumble and immediately the faint glow of the arc reactor is the only source of light, tinting Stark’s body in a pale blue light.

“Take off your clothes,” Loki whispers in Stark’s ear, removing his arms from the mortals’ to unbutton his shirt. He feels the mortal’s legs move behind him and his hips moving upwards, shrugging off his pants and underpants and Loki finally finds his way out of his shirt, carelessly letting it fall on the floor beside the bed.

Stark’s hands are on his hips, tugging at his trousers without opening them first and Loki cries out half in pain and half in ecstasy when the mortal pushes them down, right over his fully erect cock, flashing him a smile when doing so.

“I hate you, Stark,” Loki hisses when he finally peels out of his pants and undergarments, but the mortal only grabs his hips and pulls him down until he sits on Stark’s belly, running his fingers over his skin again until they reach his cock. When Stark’s fingers caress the sensitive skin, another moan escapes Loki’s throat, only to be intensified when he notices the mortal’s erection touching his behind. He reaches behind him with one hand and wraps his fingers around Stark’s cock, causing the mortal to inhale sharply. Stark’s hips move upwards, urging him for more, and Loki grabs the mortal’s throbbing erection even tighter, slowly moving his hand.

Stark’s fingers are still resting on Loki’s cock, lightly moving over it, causing Loki longing for more. His position is more than uncomfortable, but he still moves his hips against Stark’s hands until the other one strokes his cock with one hand and grabs his testicles with the other, softly kneading them until Loki starts panting heavily. This is when the human suddenly withdrawing both of his hands and instead grabbing him around the waist, carefully rolling him off him until it is Loki who lies on his back with Stark towering over him. He opens his mouth, wanting to beg Stark to continue, but he closes it again, instead grabbing his cock with his own hand, beginning to stroke it.

His hand is slapped away by Stark, whose face is so near he can see his light-brown eyes glow in the light the arc reactor casts on them. The mortal’s lips press onto his longingly, his tongue forcing his own lips apart and shoving his tongue into Loki’s throat with a brutality that for a moment, he feels like choking, but his movements begin to slow down and grow gentler, so that Loki eventually realizes he is kissing him back, his hands in Stark’s hair pulling the mortal down.

Stark breaks the kiss eventually, seeming lost in thought for a second when he is tracing the skin around Loki’s nipples which causes the trickster goose bumps. He smiles, running his fingers over Loki’s skin until they reach his cock again, casually touching it until he again withdraws his hand, crawling over Loki and looking him in the eye.

“Spread your legs.” He reaches down with one hand, trying to force his legs apart but Loki doesn’t comply.

He is a god. An outcast, stripped from all his power and glory, but nevertheless he is a god. What Stark implies to do is downright humiliating and not how he should treat him. But has the human ever treated him like he ought to? But still, parts of his body want to obey Stark, want to be taken by the mortal, and want to feel him inside of him. And after all, he could still put the blame for his behavior on the magic messing with his head, causing him to act disgracefully.

“I am not a woman, Stark. Do not expect me to spread my legs for you again, should we repeat this,” he hisses, but parts his legs nevertheless, withhold a moan when he feels Stark’s hands on his ass.

“We’ll see,” Stark mutters, raising his fingers to his mouth and taking them in, closing his lips around them and slowly pulling them out again. Loki almost wants force Stark’s head down to his cock, to take it in like he did with his fingers, to feel those soft lips closing around it tightly and to let Stark’s skilled tongue treat it, but instead, Stark places both of his hands on Loki’s butt cheeks again, pulling them apart.

“We don’t have any lube, so this must do,” the mortal mutters, brushing his fingers, which are slick from saliva, gently against his entry.

“What is lube?” Loki asks confused, but forgets about it as soon as one of Stark’s fingers finds its way into his ass. For a moment, all he can feel is pain. He tries to relax, to adjust is position a bit, but the pain still doesn’t stop, instead even intensifies when the salvia on Stark’s fingers starts to dry.

“Stop,” Loki hisses, tugging at Stark’s arm until he withdraws the finger. “Give me your hand.”

Confused, the mortal lays his hand in Loki’s who closes his eyes, concentrating on the mortal’s hand, feeling the magic spread through his hand back to Stark, until Stark’s fingers are covered with a slick substance. To his surprise, Stark grins at him.

“Well, this is what I was talking about. Lube, well… kind of.”

Before Loki can respond to this, Stark’s finger finds its way into his ass again, carefully exploring it, moving around until Loki starts moaning, when Stark inserts his finger even further.

“Take another one,” Loki whispers, pushing his hips against Stark’s hand, and soon the second finger follows. He hisses in pain shortly, but as soon as Stark starts moving his hand a bit, the pain makes room for pleasure; it does not disappear completely but instead fading until it changes into the good kind of pain, the pain that makes him want more of Stark, more of _this_. Soon, the mortal pushes the second finger all the way in until he hits a spot that makes his vision go black for a moment. He slings his legs around Stark’s waist, pulling him down, pressing himself against the other man and Stark seems to understand, pushes his fingers as far as he can go inside of Loki over and over.

“Another one,” he hisses, panting and Stark obeys. By now, he is clinging onto the man, pulling him down, his fingers forcefully digging into Stark’s skin, leaving behind long scratches, but the mortal doesn’t seem to mind, instead he gasps with desire every time Loki touches his back again.

He feels ready. Stark’s three fingers are deep inside of him, moving, stretching him, but Loki longs for something bigger, something to fill him out completely.

“Take me.”

The fingers are pulled out of his ass, leaving him with a feeling of emptiness for a moment, but Stark already strokes his hand over his cock to spread the rest of the sticky substance on it.

“Turn around,” Loki hears Stark whisper and he does what he is told, sticking his behind toward Stark, trembling with anticipation. It has been ages since he has been fucked properly. He usually took women back in Asgard, occasionally there were men, but hardly anyone ever deserved to have the privilege of fucking him.

He can feel Stark forcing his butt cheeks apart and his cock touching his entry, trailing it up and down between his butt cheeks but not pushing it in, until he suddenly does, taking him by surprise. Pain is exploding in front of Loki’s eyes, but it soon disappears when Stark takes his cock, brushing lightly across before starting to stroke it, making him relax when Stark pushes his erection inside of him full-force, going all the way in until he hits the spot again. This time Loki screams with pleasure, his scream perfectly merging with Stark’s moans. The mortal thrusts himself inside Loki again and again, his hand touching Loki’s cock, stroking it, grabbing it so tightly it almost hurts, and he feels little fireworks erupting on every inch of it that is covered with Stark’s hand.

Stark’s face is coming down on Loki’s back; he feels his breath tickling the back of his neck and a moment later his lips are pressed upon his shoulder, but before Loki realizes it, Stark has his teeth buried in his shoulder, biting and sucking his shoulders until he feels sore. Every time he pushes his cock inside of him he bites harder, but Loki eventually doesn’t feel the pain anymore, instead he notices Stark’s movements get agitated, his panting get heavier and soon after that Loki himself knows he won’t last much longer. When Stark collapses above him and the arc reactor touches his skin, it only takes a couple of strokes more to make Loki’s world go black.

They simply collapse onto the sheets, unable to move. When Tony finally rolls off him, removing his limp cock from his still spasming ass, he feels like a heavy weight is lifted from him, but still his limbs are tired and unbelievably heavy and he can’t even manage to turn his head. His hand is somehow locked with Stark’s, still exchanging magic and with a wave of his free hand he cleans them both.

“Why hasn’t the arc reactor burned my skin yet?” Stark asks, his voice almost inaudible; he must lying face-down.

“I can only speculate, but I didn’t touch it as much as yesterday.” He finally manages to turn around, finding Stark indeed face-down, his hair sticking up in every possible direction.

“Now I suggest you’d leave me alone, Stark,” he says eventually, after minutes of staring on the ceiling without saying a word. “Come back tomorrow morning and we will begin with our lessons.”

Without a word, Tony rolls across the bed and sits himself up on the edge, trying to find his clothes in the mess on the ground. A few minutes later he walks out of the bedroom, fully dressed, without looking back to Loki, who also begins to dress himself. He turns around when he reaches the door, looking directly at Loki, a deep line on his forehead.

“See you tomorrow.”

Loki only nods.

He stays lying there on the bed, only half dressed, his shirt still unbuttoned, after Stark has left. He doesn’t have the energy to move, instead he only lies there, trying not to think about what has happened, trying not to mind the feeling of the magic being sucked into the binding spell of the runes again, trying not to think about his sore ass, and his hurting neck, just lying there.

He almost doesn’t hear the knock on his door, but after a couple of knocks he stands up, running his fingers through his hair to smooth it a bit and wincing at the pain radiating from his ass with every step he takes. He reaches the door in what seems an eternity, but the knocking still hasn’t stopped.

He grabs the door handle firmly and pushing it down, still wondering what Stark could possibly want from him now.

“Haven’t you gotten enough of me, Stark?” he smirks, when he opens the door.

But it is not Stark who is standing right in front of him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How did you like it?  
> Tell me, TELL ME!
> 
> (fyi, if you one day feel the need to draw some fanart for my fic or something, you're very welcome to do so. VERY welcome.)


	18. Observation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you, lazyjayneislazy, you're the best beta one could imagine, you even beta on your phone when you don't have access to your computer, I mean, WHAT THE HELL.
> 
> I guess I owe you an apology for not updating. I had some problems, had to move out of my apartment and I'm currently looking for a new one while working 40 hours a week at a summer job where there's no wifi, so I didn't have that much time for writing. Sorry for that. And sorry that this is only some lame filler chapter, but I'm not capable of more ATM. Summer job's over at the end of next week, I'll have some more time soon.
> 
> Anyways, have fun.

Chapter 18

Tony’s words are cut off when the elevator doors close smoothly and soundlessly and suddenly Bruce notices the silence around him again. There is something fundamentally different about Tony – he’d only noticed it this morning at the start of the meeting. He can’t even tell exactly what it is, but there is something, _something_ he isn’t telling him. There is a reason for Tony to avoid his gaze. And Bruce is pretty sure it has something to do with Loki.

Back at the meeting, he had probably been the only one to notice Tony and Loki exchanging nervous glances when Loki was told to search him for curse-marks, or the longing in Tony’s eyes, the slight shiver every time Loki had touched his skin, the way he moved forward a bit with his whole body, almost leaning into Loki’s touch. No, in retrospect he’s sure of it. Nobody but him had noticed. Not even Natasha, even though one could never be sure with her.

Running his fingers through his thick, curly hair, he stares into thin air for a moment. There is no explanation for Tony’s behavior. Two days ago, Tony has had panic attacks, every time he had thought of the God of Mischief, but now? What the hell is going on now? Does he even want to know? Probably not, but if it has somehow to do with Loki, he probably has to find out for Tony’s own safety. Powerless or not, Loki is a dangerous, manipulative bastard and Tony is out of his mind at the moment, as vulnerable as he probably could be with the magic messing around with his brain.

“JARVIS, where is Tony?” he shouts, still not exactly used to the AI – he seriously doubts everyone but Tony ever will be. There is no answer for several seconds, as if JARVIS has to think about telling him or not, and Bruce is almost sure that he won’t tell him.

“Mr. Stark is in his lab, Sir.” JARVIS’ voice is hesitant, almost whispering as if he doesn’t want Tony to know and as so often this days, Bruce wonders if it is him imagining things or Tony has given his AI a goddamn functioning personality. If so, JARVIS is even more remarkable than he already thinks.

Still, he doesn’t immediately head to the elevator. Something inside of him doesn’t want to know where Tony is, doesn’t want to know what is wrong with him and what he is doing in his lab. He is pretty sure he doesn’t want to know. His gut tells him that whatever he will find up there will be unpleasant.

He realizes he is biting his lip after a few minutes of doing nothing but standing in the middle of the room and staring at a particularly interesting spot on the ceiling and he immediately stops, still avoiding the elevator. Probably it is his conscience reminding him of what happened the last time he has been in Tony’s lab, the pain, when his arm froze in, the panic the Hulk was in when not even he could do something against the sheer power Tony was directing to him.

He winces at the memories, but nevertheless takes a couple of steps to the elevator. No, he can’t deal with Tony right now. Not while he is in the lab. He’s become pretty good with controlling the Hulk these days, but there is no way he is going to try out if the other one has the same bad, frightful memory of the lab incident than he has. No, first of all he needs coffee. Tony can probably wait for another couple of hours.

When he steps out of the elevator mere seconds later and proceeds to what the Avengers, or mostly Clint and Natasha have already claimed as their shared kitchen and meeting room, Steve is already there, sitting on one of the chairs, bent over a newspaper. His eyebrows are constantly moving – he raises them at some headlines and wrinkles them probably at things that don’t make sense to him. Bruce finds himself leaning next to the door, silently watching the Captain, who doesn’t even seem to notice him. There is something Bruce finds incredibly interesting in the way Steve seems to suck in everything at once, the way that he, as opposed to Thor, seems to try his best to fit in, to make himself at home in the present. Which is why he is constantly reading every newspaper he can find, making himself accustomed to new technology, such as computers and telephones, often sitting for hours with thick books in his lap, reading about what has happened in the past 70 years. He tries. Bruce has noticed shortly after the New York incident, when they had spent more time together. He is even pretty sure that Steve has actually made himself pretty much at home, even though this new, futuristic present is so much different from the present he was violently torn out of. But still. He has noticed – and again he is sure to be the only one who has – the faint glimmer of sadness in Steve’s eyes every now and then. But then again, Steve obviously doesn’t want this to know anyone.

He clears his throat slightly and approaches the Captain, who turns his head at him with a jerk and almost wipes the newspaper off the table in the motion.

“Oh… I didn’t see you.” Steve neatly folds the newspaper and places it on the table, then he stands up. “Do you want coffee?” He asks, on his way to the kitchen counter. “I finally understand how to make coffee with these _Nespresso_ machines that are all over S.H.I.E.L.D. and Stark Tower.”

“Yeah, that would be great.” Bruce nods at him, despite Steve standing with his back to him, seemingly fighting to get the small water tank back where it belongs without breaking anything.

“This always gets stuck, I have no idea why.” He finally manages though, and Bruce sits down, grabbing the paper and browsing through it, with his mind wandering off, wandering back to whatever Tony, and much more importantly, Loki, are up to exactly, so that he is almost startled by Steve placing a deliciously smelling cup of black coffee in front of him and putting an immense amount of sugar in his own.

“Thanks, Steve.”

Steve only smiles silently, staring into his cup, completely lost in thought, tapping his fingers on the table in a slow rhythm.

“What do you think of having Loki here?” he suddenly asks, his voice soft and concerned, which is new to Bruce, who has gotten used to Steve’s oftentimes commanding tone.

“In all honesty? I have no idea. The only thing that I’m sure of is that having Loki here is no good for Tony.” He takes a sip from his coffee, which is almost burning his tongue and he winces at the uncomfortable feeling of the too-hot liquid running down his throat.

“I just don’t understand this… magic stuff. I mean, I understand it, in theory, but I can’t wrap my mind around the fact that there _is_ magic. But I guess it’s just one more thing that I need to get used to.”

Bruce shakes his head, but he isn’t sure if Steve actually sees this, as the Captain is already staring in his cup again, as if there is something interesting to see in the white and brown swirls of steamed milk and coffee that create swirling patterns where they meet.

“You are not the only one who can’t quite grasp the idea of magic, believe me.”

Steve doesn’t react to that, in fact, he keeps staring into his coffee cup as if in a trance, his eyes not moving and his skin slowly getting red from the hot steam.

“We need to get rid of him.” he suddenly says, his voice steady, the voice Bruce has grown used to. He lifts his head and his eyes are full of certainty, his gaze of such an intensity that Bruce has the sudden urge to look away and finds himself staring at the newspaper a moment later.

“You mean Loki? How?” His voice is a mere whisper, rough and husky, but he blames it on the still way too hot coffee.

“Of course I mean Loki. I don’t feel exactly comfortable with the idea of having him around here and having him and… the Tesseract on the same planet. Also, after what he did to Stark, I am concerned about what he can do to the rest of our team. He doesn’t need his powers to take us apart, I’m sure of this.” Steve runs his fingers through his hair several times, then moves his hands down to his temples, softly rubbing them.

“But how on earth are we supposed to get rid of him? From what I can see, Fury has taken the opportunity to just shoving Loki off to us, let us deal with him, while he is turning the Tesseract’s energy into weapons that… what? Are supposed to defend us against aliens?”

“Exactly. This was Stark, unintentionally providing Fury with this option, when he urged him into transferring Loki to Stark Tower. But… I’ve been thinking about this since Loki’s arrival, but I still have no idea of how to get rid of him. I wouldn’t want to mess with Odin, whoever he is. I wouldn’t want to have Thor as an enemy and Odin is supposed to be even mightier, and there’s a whole kingdom supporting him. I think the only option for us is to hope for Loki to be worthy of his magic eventually.”

“You don’t actually believe that, do you?” Bruce raises an eyebrow skeptically.

“It’s our only hope, as far as I can see.” Steve brushes his fingers along the rim of his cup, without even attempting to drink his coffee.

“Hope? Do you really believe Loki will develop into someone at least half-decent and get his magic back if we just give him enough time?”

“No. We have to help him.” Steve’s voice again is very quiet, almost inaudible, and he massages his temples before rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands.

“You can’t be serious. Steve, it’s Loki. How on Earth should we help him? I can’t imagine he’ll let us.”

“Which is why we’ll have to try even harder. I know you and the others won’t like this, but we’ll probably have to spend some time with him. Getting to know him better. Getting him to know us better. It may be a dumb idea, but I just figured Loki may be changing the opinion he has of mortals if he gets to know us better. We’re not exactly typical human beings, but that shouldn’t matter.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Bruce clings to his cup as if it is the only thing keeping him from letting out the Hulk, and to be honest, he isn’t exactly sure how far away from an emotional outbreak he actually is.

“I’m sorry, I’m not. But look at it from the bright side. Maybe this is our chance to get rid of him. You don’t have to befriend him. Just… be civil. Be nice and polite around him. Ask him if he wants some coffee, give him some books to read if he’s bored, ask him how he’s feeling. I hope I am not wrong about this, but I just think that maybe he will change his opinion about us.”

Bruce nods slowly and drinks the last remains of his coffee. One glance into his cup make him long for some more, but he’s had enough for today, he decides after turning his head around to the coffee machine. Steve stands up suddenly, his cup still in his hands.

“I’ll go now, I’ll talk to Natasha and Clint.”

And for the second time this day, Bruce is left alone.

 

There isn’t much he can do right now, so after a while he gets up and plants himself in front of the TV, zapping through the channels, eventually settling for some newscast. He isn’t actually listening, though. Too much is going on in his head, his thoughts switching from his concern over Tony’s well-being to Loki, and how the hell he is supposed to be civil with the Hulk remembering their encounter a couple of months back still very clearly. And the last few days have shown him that he’s on the edge of hulking out every time the trickster opens his mouth. Which means he’ll have to be even more careful around the God of Mischief than he already has to be around people in general. Wonderful.

After a while he is dozing off, and when he’s fully awake again, his watch is telling him he has been sleeping for more than two hours. Rubbing his eyes, he slowly sits up, trying to straighten his wrinkled clothes.

“JARVIS, is Tony still in his lab?” he asks, rolling his shoulders.

“Mr. Stark can be found in the 106th floor at the moment,” JARVIS replies almost immediately.

What is Tony doing there? Bruce furrows his brows, standing up and making his way to the elevator. He doesn’t think he has ever been in the 106th floor before. It must be pretty close to Tony’s observation deck, but to his knowledge it is one of the many floors that are still empty.

On his way out of the huge kitchen-living room complex, he is almost run over by Steve, who is rubbing his cheek.

“Natasha didn’t take my suggestion that well,” he mutters, walking past him straight to the fridge.

“She told me I couldn’t expect her to be nice to a guy who called her a mewling quim. Well, I suppose she has every right to be angry with Loki, but I told her she should still try to be civil. That’s when I got this.” He removes his hand and presents Bruce a red, vaguely hand-shaped imprint, that already had started vanishing.

Bruce only chuckles softly, without commenting on it, but Steve nevertheless mutters a somewhat depressed “I think I’m just bad at talking to women,” before his head is vanishing in the fridge.

In moments like these, Bruce is reminded of how _young_ and inexperienced Steve actually is – something which the Captain successfully hides behind his image as a national hero or his remarkable leadership qualities. He smiles slightly at this, but decides it is best to leave him alone now, after all, Tony’s well-being has priority over Steve’s inability to talking to Natasha without pissing her off eventually.

When he walks out of the elevator a couple of minutes later, he is surprised of how similar this floor looks to the one his apartment is in. He finds himself at the end of a long corridor, which features full-front windows on one side that bring a breathtaking view over New York City. But Bruce doesn’t even blink at the skyscrapers and people that look like ants from up there – he is focused on the door – one that looks like the one that opens to his own apartment.

On his way to the door, he walks past several more elevators – seriously, how many elevators does this tower have? There is even an elevator that leads directly inside of every room – of course one can only get out at the floor one’s apartment is on, except for Tony, maybe.

He knocks at the door which is a work of art by itself – dark wood and metal that seem to be molten together, creating beautiful, breathtaking patterns.

Before he can see the doorknob moving, he already has an idea of who will be opening it. But still his taken by surprise when it isn’t Tony who is leaning on the doorframe, with a teasing, but somewhat lopsided smile on his lips. It isn’t Tony, whose hair is ruffled as well as his clothes. It isn’t Tony, whose shirt is almost completely unbuttoned, as if he has just put it on moments ago, revealing dark purple bruises along the neckline and an obvious dental impression directly above his collarbone.

“Haven’t you gotten enough of me, Stark?” the man, who most definitely isn’t Tony asks in a rough voice, his eyes widening when he sees that it is Bruce standing before him.

And Bruce doesn’t know which is worse: The fact the person standing in front of him had obviously been sleeping with none other than Tony just minutes ago, or that it is none other than Loki, who is staring at him with big, green eyes and a mix of alertness and curiosity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, how did you like it?
> 
> A side note:  
> Things that are overused in this fic: Elevators and coffee. And I guess there are MANY elevators in Stark Tower. I mean, it's huge. So Tony could have easily left shortly before Bruce arrived. 
> 
> Also I'd be glad for ANY ideas. Something you want me to write? Begging for more smut? Any relationships that could be further explored, any characters that NEED to be in there? I'm happy for ideas; I have a general storyline, but still MANY holes to fill.
> 
> Anyways, I'd love to have some feedback, as usual. Tell me what you liked, what you didn't like, what could be improved... if you think there's any chance for Steve/Bruce or if it's just in my head, anything.
> 
> I love you guys, by the way.


	19. Answers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm back with a new chapter ;)  
> I'll probably be able to write more next month, my summer job is over. soooo... there's nothing more to say except for thanking Jayne for betaing, as usual. :)
> 
> have fun!

Chapter 19

He can actually feel his heart beating loudly in his chest, the blood pumping through his body rushing in his ears, when he takes a first look at the man outside of his chambers. Banner. Of all people, it is Banner who is standing in front of him, surprised and terrified at once judging from the look on his face. Loki opens his mouth, then closes it again after a moment of reconsideration and just stares at the other man, unable to move, unable to think. All he can think of is how Banner, or the green raging monster he turns into at times, had tossed him around like a rag doll, with him not being able to do anything about it. He remembers the Hulk’s iron grip, his mere strength, comparable with Thor’s. By the nine, how could a man of Banner’s stature, rather small and not exactly noticeable, transform into something like the Hulk, a creature composed of nothing but anger and strength, able to take it up with gods?

Banner doesn’t say anything; he stands still before him and stares at him as if Loki was some kind of curiosity, some rare exhibit to be studied. He can almost feel Banner’s gaze upon him, wandering over his body, from the disheveled state of his hair to the bite marks on his neck, the bruises dark against his pale skin. Banner’s gaze is wandering down, moving over the smooth skin of his stomach in a swift motion, down to his trousers, which he had not quite closed in the haste, to his bare feet, and up again, meeting his eyes.

The scientist (at least this is what Loki thinks he is), closes his eyes for a second, obviously trying to calm down. His skin had already started to show hints of green, which vanish again, but as he opens his eyes, there is a kind of hardness in them, a hardness Loki hasn’t noticed before.  Unconsciously, Loki takes a step back, but Banner reaches for the door and pushes his open a bit wider.

“What did you do to him?” he asks, his voice dark. He moves closer and even though he is still in his human form, suddenly Loki can see the Hulk in Banner – in his eyes, in the way he is standing before him, the way he tenses up.

“I didn’t do anything to him,” Loki whispers hoarsely and his eyes widen when he can see how hard it is for Banner to suppress the Hulk – he can see it in the patches of green that appear for a few seconds and vanish again right afterwards.  The fist, that clenches and unclenches, the muscles that seem so much more prominent under Banner’s shirt.

He doesn’t see Banner’s hand reaching for his neck, his whole body moving towards him in a speed he wouldn’t have thought possible for the human, pressing him up against the wall, making it almost impossible to breathe. Loki reaches for the scientist’s hand, his fingernails digging into Banner’s skin, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t react.

“You made him sleep with you.” It didn’t sound like a question, more like a fact. Not that it exactly matters, though, because the tight grip around Loki’s neck is cutting off his air supply almost completely, leaving him unable to say a word. He tries fitting his fingers in between Banner’s hand and his neck, kicking his feet in the scientist’s direction, but Banner’s grip is still too tight for him to breathe. He seems to have gained height, some small part of his brain notices, while the rest of Loki is struggling to breathe.

“Let… me…” he manages to get out, but Banner doesn’t listen. He doesn’t move, not a bit and the part of Loki’s brain that is still functioning notices that he pins him against the wall with only one hand. Still – he isn’t green yet. But almost – his skin has already begun to look abnormal, the slight green color spreading over it rapidly. Banner seems to be fighting with himself, as blotches of green change back to normal skin again, muscles build and rebuild and he constantly grows and shrinks. He manages to keep his grip steady though.

Loki feels his limbs getting weaker, his kicks not quite reaching Banner anymore, he feels his arms growing heavy and slipping from Banner’s skin eventually, he notices dark spots in his vision, that aren’t going away, not matter how much he blinks. His neck hurts from where Banner’s hand is digging into his skin; he wants to lift an arm and try slapping his hand away, but his arms don’t obey, he can’t even feel them anymore and he can’t see anything –

“Fuck!” The grip around Loki’s neck becomes loose and two arms keep him from falling to the ground. Loki opens his eyes in shock when his lungs force air inside his body and keeps panting, his head dizzy and an uncomfortable tingling sensation in his limbs. It is still Banner who is standing in front of him, but this time, it is only Banner, the middle-aged human scientist with touches of grey on his temples and glasses that make his eyes look a bit bigger from what they are. Banner, who pushes Loki back gently now, his forehead wrinkled in concern. There is not a hint of green left on his skin.

“Have I hurt you?” Banner mumbles, touching Loki’s neck not entirely gently, but not coarsely either. He lets his hand sink down as soon as Loki is standing more or less steadily on his feet again, letting go of him completely shortly afterwards.

“You almost killed me,” Loki states, his voice hoarse, and breaks into a cough.

“You apparently coerced Tony to sleep with you.” Banner passes him and walks further into Loki’s chambers and the trickster follows him hesitatingly. When he reaches the living room, Banner already sits on the sofa and is obviously waiting for Loki to join him. He furls his eyebrows when he looks at the trickster, but immediately sighs.

“You. Tell me what the fuck happened and why it happened.”

Loki sits down as far away from Banner as possible, carefully looking out for something to grab and toss in the scientist’s direction should he become a raging green monster again but aside from a fruit bowl there isn’t much to toss around.

“Why would you even want to know?” he asks quietly, catching himself playing with the ends of his much too long hair.

“Because Tony is my friend and I am concerned about him. Which, given the circumstances, is completely valid.” Loki doesn’t even have to look in Banner’s direction to feel the disgusted look on his face, which he is pretty sure, is directed at the bite marks on his neck.

“I can assure you there is nothing for you to be concerned about, Banner.”

“Too bad for you then that I don’t trust you.”

“I’m used to it. For whatever reason, nobody seems to trust me.” Loki crosses his arms and lets his gaze wander around the room, until he looks out of the window, staring on the strange Midgardian buildings around him.

“So this would be the perfect opportunity for you to earn my trust, Loki.” Banner’s tone is serious and Loki catches the more than obvious threat that comes with it – a threat most likely consistent of huge green fists and almost certain death.

“I am pretty sure Stark doesn’t want you to know,” Loki tries anyway, because after all, he is sure about this. Stark made it clear that he wants no one to know and even though Loki is relatively sure that Banner and Stark are pretty close, he doesn’t want to spoil things with Stark. After all, Stark is the one that provides him with at least some magic.

“Tell me,” is all Banner says though and Loki once again questions his insight to human nature. Mortals seem multi-faceted compared to most Asgardians and it is still something he has to get used to. Which is why he is surprised by Banner’s commanding tone, an entirely new aspect to his usual soft and quiet voice. Well, after all, Banner _does_ have two very distinct personalities. He turns his head but can only see Banner the scientist, not Banner the rage monster though.

“I didn’t persuade Stark into sleeping with me,” is all Loki is saying, because he still doesn’t know how much he can tell Banner without things going horribly wrong. He can’t tell him about the deal he has made with Stark, obviously, but maybe there are some things he can tell Banner, he just doesn’t know. His ability as lie smith, the reason they call him Silvertongue, has severely decreased since he is powerless.

“So what did you do then?” Banner asks and this is the moment Loki had dreaded.

He takes a deep breath, not exactly keen on telling Banner anything, but even less keen on being used as the Hulk’s punching bag.

“Stark and I have a connection of some sorts,” he starts, carefully weighing every word. He turns his head away from Banner again, feeling that if he doesn’t have to look directly at him, he can somehow breathe more freely and instead lets his eyes wander over the sky, much less blue than it is in Asgard, or is it just a different one?

“A connection. What are you talking about?” Banner inquires.

“I only have some theories. I still don’t know how it could have happened.”

“Well then, tell me.”

There is a long pause in which neither of them says anything and Loki continues looking out of the window. Somehow, he wishes Stark would be here. He probably would be able to explain everything without giving away too much – after all, Banner and Stark seem to be close and Stark definitely knows better how much it is safe to tell the scientist.

“I must have hit Stark with some magic,” he starts after a while. “I didn’t curse him, though.”

“Well, we already know this. Wait… You said you _didn’t_ curse him? Why is Thor in Asgard, then? I thought you need books on curses?” Banner sounds confused, but anger is even more prominent in his tone, so that Loki needs a couple of moments and one or two deep breathes before he dares to turn around to him.

 _To buy time_ , he almost says, _to not have to worry about my brother being a pain in the neck and being able to break the runes without him seeing through my plans._ But he shuts his mouth before any word can leave.

“I need the books because I am still not sure how this could have happened. I have my theories… Stark’s arc reactor seems to be a powerful energy store. Although this is only a theory of mine, at least this would explain the energy outburst and the fact that the level of magic inside his body is higher than anything I have ever seen in a mortal.”

Banner only nods, and Loki is sure there is a hint of suspicion in his gaze, but he chooses to ignore it.

“Tell me something I _don’t_ know for a change, Loki. Maybe start by answering the question, why on Earth you and Tony have done what I think you have done?” He crosses his arms in front of his chest, and Loki is sure the scientist is more muscular than he had been four months ago, although he is still nothing compared to the muscle-packed embodiments of masculinity that, with the exception of the Black Widow, make up the rest of the Avengers.

“Magic is unlike every other source of energy here on Midgard,” Loki starts, his voice toneless. “It is... you could say, alive. And magic taps its full potential only if used by its owner, which would be me in this case. So even though Stark is pumped with magical energy, the magic urges to return to me. This is what probably caused the wide range of different emotions in Stark – the magic itself is scared confused, and when I came to Midgard it probably first tried to coerce Stark into getting rid of it so that it could return to me freely, which is why Stark experienced what you thought were panic attacks.”

“Tony…”

“He probably already told you that. But there is more to it. The magic transfers back to me by a simple touch. The more we touch, the more magic leaves Stark’s body.”

“So… am I understanding this right? You just had sex just so that the magic is transferred back to you?”

Unwillingly, Loki lets out a short laugh.

“Well, it _is_ a bit more complicated than _that_. Basically, what the magic is trying to do now, is manipulating our feelings… well, more Stark’s feelings than mine. He probably feels heavily aroused every time he thinks of me. As he is only mortal, he cannot escape the manipulations, his mind is too weak.”

“So what is the role you play in this then?”

This time, Loki grins broadly and looks directly at Banner. He can’t tell him what his real motives are. Not ever.

“I just love to see Stark getting hard at the sight of me and doing whatever I want him to despite hating me. I love the helplessness in his eyes, when his body wants to fuck me and he doesn’t. The disgust he feels for himself when he cries my name.”

He might have gone a little too far, because what is sitting opposite of him for a moment resembles the Hulk more than it does Banner, but after a blink of an eye it is the human who is sitting on the sofa, his mouth slightly open, looking mildly terrified in his direction.

“So Steve is right, after all,” he mumbles, staring at him.

“Right with what exactly?”

“We have to get rid of you. As soon as possible. And if this means actually helping you, then so be it.” Banner runs both of his hands through his hair, pulling at it a bit and closing his eyes for a moment.

“Helping me? With what? Becoming a decent person, so that I can get my powers back? You seriously think you can help me?”

He hasn’t laughed in weeks. No, months. But right now, sitting opposite someone who has the potential to kill him in an instant, he finally feels the urge to do so. So he laughs. Long. Hard. He tilts his head back and his voice almost cracks and when he stops, Banner is already on his way out.

“I don’t think I… we… can help you. But that doesn’t mean we give up easily. Don’t you ever think we are doing this for you, Loki.”

“Of course not.”

Banner stays silent for a moment, looking directly at him, but Loki can’t decipher his gaze.

“Tomorrow, two o’clock sharp, ground floor. Don’t be late.”

“What are we going to do?” Loki asks, before Bruce has the chance to walk out.

“Reliving some old memories,” is the answer before he can hear the door shut behind him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loved it? Hated it? Feedback of any kind is very much appreciated ;)


	20. Magic lesson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magic lessons, Loki-style.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry to update that irregularly, but university has more or less started again, well, at least my Latin course... I have SO much to do lately, so much to study, plus I'm moving... I think you get the idea.   
> First of all I want to thank Emma for betaing and staying up all night. This chapter will be betaed a second time, so there might be slight changes in a couple of hours, but I'm sure there won't be many.
> 
> As usual, have fun.

By the time Tony wakes up, the sun is already shining brightly. Despite having slept for more than twelve hours, he doesn’t exactly feel awake – to be honest, his head hurts quite a bit, and a look in the mirror a couple of minutes later shows that his eyes are red-rimmed.

He had eventually collapsed into bed yesterday evening, after waiting for hours for Bruce to show up - and at the same time hoping that he wouldn’t. After Bruce and Loki’s conversation, he had actually been sure the scientist would knock on his door any minute, but he never did. A shiver runs down his spine when he thinks of Bruce, half transformed into the Hulk, about to kill Loki… and him doing nothing about it. Nothing at all. JARVIS had informed him as soon as Bruce had arrived at Loki’s door, but all Tony could do was stare at the screen in front of him; listening to Bruce and Loki speaking, listening to Bruce accusing Loki of having manipulated him, watching the doc almost change into the Hulk more than once, and finally watching him attack the trickster. He knows he should have done something. Should. But the only thing he did was sit in his chair in front of the screen and watch Loki almost suffocate, watch him kicking in Bruce’s direction, his movements getting weaker and weaker.

 He shakes his head, trying to get the images out of his mind. Surprisingly enough, Bruce and Loki had sat down and talked afterwards. Even more surprising was that Loki hadn’t told Bruce everything, only enough for the doc to almost lose his temper again after the conversation, after he had closed the door behind him. He had seen the look on Bruce’s face, the disgust, confusion, the anger – the scientist had looked directly into one of the cameras, almost as if he had expected Tony to watch.

The glow of the arc reactor catches his eyes after a couple of minutes of staring in the mirror, completely lost in thought. It looks different again… it is somewhat _bluer_ , and the glowing doesn’t seem artificial like it’s supposed to - quite on the contrary, it seems like something _living_ , pulsating, even changing colors every now and then.

With a slight tingle of concern, he undresses to get under the shower. The magic has already started regenerating, and he knows without even having to check that the level of magic in his body is almost the same as it was before yesterday. His whole body somehow feels different from what he felt yesterday - already, there is the desire to get near Loki again, something inside him longs to touch his delicate, pale skin, to feel himself inside of him…

Loki. He remembers the magic lessons the God of Mischief has offered to him. Magic lessons. His fingertips start to tickle when he thinks of controlling the magic inside of him, and even the thought of having to deal with Loki again suddenly sounds appealing. _Come back tomorrow morning_ , he had said, but Tony has a better idea.

“JARVIS, tell Loki to come here. And send breakfast.”

He doesn’t even wait for JARVIS to reply before he jumps under the shower.

It must have been the shortest shower of his entire life, because he is already finished when he hears the _ping_ of the elevator a couple of minutes later, and he’s changed into a t-shirt and a pair of denims - although his hair is still wet, and he feels small droplets of water dripping onto his forehead.

“Stark,” Loki mumbles, not quite meeting his eyes. With a tiny smirk Tony notices the S.H.I.E.L.D. t-shirt the trickster is wearing, and the way he tugs down the sleeves as if he is almost uncomfortable having nothing to cover the pitch-black runes on his forearms. If he didn’t know better, he’d think that they looked like strange tattoos - but not quite. He catches himself staring at them, and he is somehow sure they are moving; at least, he can’t quite focus on them. He sees them, but is not sure what exactly he is even seeing aside from black patterns on pale skin.

He must have stared at Loki’s arms for too long, because the trickster scowls at him. But he says nothing, so Tony just nods at him and walks into the kitchen, where someone must have put down a tray with cereal, donuts and fruit mere seconds ago.

“Are you hungry?” he asks and grabs one of the donuts, noticing Loki eyeing the bright pink frosting suspiciously.

“I would not say no to something to eat.” Loki’s hand hovers over the tray and he is obviously not quite sure of what to choose, but before long, he picks up some grapes and slowly eats them, with his gaze never letting go of Tony.

He pours some coffee into two mugs and places one of them in front of Loki, who stares at it with a somewhat irritated expression.

“What is this?” he asks, his eyes fixated on the deep brown liquid.

“Coffee. It’s a… Midgardian beverage. You can drink it like that, or put milk and sugar in it.”

Loki nods slowly, before he reaches for the sugar and puts three cubes in it, his eyes still fixated on the mug.

“So, why am I here, exactly?” he asks after a while. He has already eaten his way through most of the different kinds of fruit, and is suspiciously eyeing the donuts.

“Well, obviously to teach me some magic. But I thought it would be nice to have some breakfast first.” Tony stands up and carries his plate to the sink - something he never usually does, but the sheer vicinity of Loki is making his brain stop working properly. All he can see is the gracefully disheveled hair that is again loosely braided, the love bites on his neck and shoulders, the long fingered hands finally reaching for a donut, the green eyes staring at him somewhat sleepily and the mischievous smile that never quite vanishes from Loki’s face.

“Your friend almost killed me yesterday,” Loki says, his voice devoid of emotion.

“I know.” Tony doesn’t quite know what else to say, and he doesn’t turn around - instead, he is bent over the kitchen sink, both his hands grabbing the plate and almost breaking it.

“So you _did_ watch us. I thought as much.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Why didn’t you come? Why didn’t you stop him?” Loki doesn’t sound as if he’s accusing him - he just sounds curious. But nevertheless, Tony still can’t bring himself to turn around.

“I… If I were you, I doubt _you_ would have come rescue me.”

“Point made.” Loki’s voice is somewhat cold, but isn’t it always? At least he doesn’t make any attempt to tell Tony that this does not, in fact, answer his question. Tony turns around again, his hands hot and damp from the water he had washed his plate with, and sees Loki smirking at him broadly.

“I wouldn’t have expected you to come, Stark.” Loki gets up and walks towards him until he is standing right in front of him, his smirk making him look more like the Loki he had met four months ago – mad and dangerous.

And he actually believes him.

A shiver runs down his spine when one of Loki’s hands moves underneath his shirt, touching bare skin, and soon the trickster’s other hand joins in; brushing over his arm, to his shoulder, to his neck. A second later, before Tony could actually do anything, the hands are gone, leaving him feeling almost _naked_.

“First lesson. Concentration,” Loki whispers, his eyes sparkling with a green so unnatural that Tony has to blink twice to make sure he hasn’t imagined it.

Loki gently touches his shoulder and navigates him out of the kitchen, to the living room.

“Sit down.” Tony nods and complies, his eyes fixated on Loki.

“Now. Close your eyes. Concentrate. Concentrate on the magic. I want you to feel it. Feel the way it streams through your body. Be one with it.”

Loki sits down next to him and lifts one corner of his mouth into a lopsided smirk. Tony closes his eyes, but for a moment, the sight of Loki is still etched in his mind - his hair, his eyes, his voice, the way he smells, the way he touches him…

He tries as hard as he can possibly do to banish his thoughts to a far corner of his mind. Concentrate on the magic. Most of the energy is hosted in his arc reactor, which is why he concentrates on his chest first, on the slight buzz of energy he can feel. He imagines it streaming through his veins like blood; he can feel the tingling sensation in his fingertips now, more prominent than ever. For a few moments he just sits there and simply _feels -_ and he doesn’t know why this works now, doesn’t know if this is because he has never tried to actually feel the magic before, or if it is because the magic is opening up to him because Loki has said it can. But it doesn’t matter, because for a moment, he can’t think, he is drowning in the overwhelming sensation of the foreign energy streaming through his body, making his heart beat faster and stronger; for a moment there is no Tony, there is no Loki, there is just pure magic. He can feel it gather in his palms, and he tries to move it back and forth at will, but it doesn’t seem to actually recognize his presence.

Then, the moment is over, almost as soon as it had begun.

“Quite intense, wasn’t it?” Loki is suddenly right next to him, whispering in his ear. One of his fingers is trailing patterns on his cheek and every touch suddenly feels like a firework, even more intense that it used to feel before.

“What… have you done?” Tony gasps, opening his eyes, staring directly into the trickster’s.

“Me? Nothing. This is all your doing. It seems you accepted the magic. You’ve never actually tried to think of it too hard, have you?”

“It’s not like I have known of it for that long.” Tony moves one hand towards Loki, intending to pull him down onto him; but the trickster only smiles, shaking his head and smacking the hand back.

“Don’t move. Concentration is the key to it all. So… I want you to concentrate on the magic again. I want you to understand what it does.”

“What it does?”

“Don’t move. Don’t talk. Close your eyes and don’t open them unless I say so,” Loki whispers and Tony is acutely aware that Loki is, in fact, a prince. He imagines him talking like that to his servants and instantly feels a bit helpless. He does what he is told, though, and closes his eyes, instantly feeling Loki all over him - his hands pulling his t-shirt up and caressing the skin underneath it, his lips finding his nipples and playfully biting them.

“Don’t think of me, Stark. Think of the magic. Do you feel it intensifying wherever I touch you? Follow its movements. Feel the flow of energy inside of you.”

Yes. The flow of energy. Sure. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to ignore the fact that Loki is sitting on his lap, trying to get rid of his t-shirt; but he feels his body pushing against him, his lips trying to find Loki’s.

“Stop it.” There is a hand pressed on his arc reactor and another one lifting his chin. “If you can’t sit still, I might need some other methods.”

“Wait.” Tony opens his eyes again and sits up from his almost horizontal position. “What are you doing? Are you teasing me?”

For a moment, Loki does nothing but lift an eyebrow and show off his mischievous grin.

“Maybe. But believe me, Stark. Do what I tell you to do, and you will be able to control this magic eventually… if you are strong enough.” He leans forward until their lips almost touch and Tony only marginally notices the hand that is still upon his arc reactor.

“Now, since a mortal like you has obviously not got enough self-control…” Loki mutters and sits up again, the hand that is not pressed upon his chest glowing golden and green.

“This won’t hurt and it will wear off soon.” He gently touches his forehead and for a second, all Tony can see is a flash of green and golden light that makes him close his eyes tight. He sees lights dancing behind his eyelids, but after a few moments they are gone, and they leave a feeling of _comfort_ behind.

“Don’t panic,” he can hear Loki say, almost soothingly.

 _Why would I panic?_ He tries to open his mouth, but it stays locked. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t move the muscles in his face. He opens his eyes – tries to, but his eyes also show no sign of responding. And it is not just his face. His whole body lies there, limp and lifeless, with his beating heart being the only thing that is working – but even his heart doesn’t work as it should: the heartbeat, that normally would have increased by now, is steady and slow, as is his breathing.

“It will wear off in a matter of minutes. Do not panic, Stark.” A hand is caressing his cheek, moving to his neck.

“Concentrate on your hands. Try to feel the energy there. Do you feel the tingling sensation in your fingertips?”

Loki suddenly moves down to his stomach, brushing over his belly-button, moving on to his hips.

 _Concentrate on your hands._ Well, it’s not like Tony can do anything other than lie there motionless, so he decides to give it a go (and kick Loki’s ass as soon as this is over). So he tries to block out Loki’s touch and instead brings the tingling of his fingers into focus again. Yes, he does feel the magic there – it is even more prominent when Loki touches him, he can feel waves of energy streaming through him every time Loki’s fingers touch his skin.

He hears the sound of a zipper and feels his jeans being pulled down, slowly, carefully, and almost teasingly.

“Concentrate on your fingers. This will help you later when we come to actual magic.”

Still, he can’t ignore the feeling of Loki slowly pulling down his boxers, of his fingers exploring the sensitive skin.

“Try to summon the magic in your hands.”

 _My hands._ Right. The tingling of his fingertips has spread to his palms and is almost unbearable now. But he can feel a new sensation there, something he can only describe as _power_. His hands feel heavy, but at the same time he has the feeling that he could actually turn Stark Tower into a pile of ashes - well, if he could only move.

“Now. Try to break through. Try to block me out completely, try to break the spell I have laid upon you.”

 _You bastard_ , Tony thinks, wanting to scream it out, but his mouth still doesn’t move.

He can feel Loki’s breath on the skin of his stomach, his tongue leaving behind a thin trail of saliva. For a brief moment, he almost loses himself into the sensation of Loki’s hands finding their way to his cock, slowly starting to stroke it… but then, his attention moves back to his hands. There is more and more magic gathering there, but how the hell is he supposed to use it?

He hears Loki chuckling quietly when his gentle strokes become stronger, when one hand is brushing over the head of his member and Tony wants nothing more than for his hips to move towards Loki, but he still can’t move.

“Come on, Stark. You can do it.”

Lazily, Loki lets his fingers rest on Tony’s hard length, only moving them slowly, but never doing more, never giving him the satisfaction he needs - and suddenly, Tony understands what Loki has been planning all along. He won’t get anything more than this. Not until his spell has worn off, or he manages to break through it.

 He tries to concentrate on the magic again, which is more than difficult since his whole body is crying for more, and he can almost _see_ Loki grinning like the mischievous bastard that he is… but he is trying with all his willpower to not think of his grin, to not think of the hands still resting on his cock, making tiny movements as if to tease him - well, that is exactly what Loki’s doing, _teasing_.

 _Okay, come on, break the spell,_ he thinks, but Loki never actually told him how to get the magic to do what he wants. He thinks of the magic streaming out of his hands and breaking whatever spell Loki has cast upon him – he imagines it to look like a cocoon, encircling his body, a cocoon of green and golden energy, only to be broken by the piercing blue one that is his.

He hears Loki drawing a sharp breath, and he suddenly feels the link to the trickster being completely cut off - for a second, there is no energy whatsoever transferring between them. Briefly, his senses are gone, he can’t smell, he can’t feel, he can’t hear. It’s like a big black hole is trying to swallow him, and a part of him wants to let himself sink into it - but he fights it until it gets smaller, and smaller.

He opens his eyes again, and although his vision is still a bit blurry, he can still see Loki bending down to him, looking more than surprised.

“I’ve made it.”

“Indeed.”

He pulls Loki down to him and turns them both around until he sits on top of him, almost resulting in them falling down from the sofa.

“You bastard. What did you even think?”

“Well, it did work. Surprisingly so.”

There is a moment of silence between them, in which Loki does nothing but grin broadly.

“You still owe me something, Loki,” Tony whispers, suddenly being reminded of his still throbbing cock - and Loki slowly trails one of his hands over the other man’s hips until it almost reaches his cock.

“Mr. Laufeyson, I have to remind you that Mr. Banner awaits you.” Tony silently curses at JARVIS’ voice, perfectly polite as usual.

“It seems this will have to wait, Stark,” whispers Loki, and the satisfaction in his voice is more than obvious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, Tony can't do proper magic, if that's what you are asking yourself now, after reading this. There will be more to this in a couple of chapters. :)
> 
> I really want to end this fic, not because I don't like it or anything, but because I have the end (last 5 chapters or so) already planned out in my head and I want to write it...^^ But no worries, there is so much more to this story. 
> 
>  
> 
> Please review :)


	21. Embrace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, special thanks go to my betas Emma and Jayne :)  
> I'm SO sorry but I've been completely stressed out lately, with studying and moving (but now I live in a super cute apartment with my best friend, it was worth it). I would love to promise you the next chapter is going to be online soon, but I can't. It is going to be online EVENTUALLY though, and I hope it's somewhere in the next two weeks.  
> Also I outlined the rest of the fic and there are going to be AT LEAST 23 more chapters if I go with this plan. :)
> 
> Oh and if you are interested, my entry for the [frostiron bang](../../965090).
> 
>  
> 
> Have fun with this one.

He dreams of Peggy, like he does every night. In his dreams, he is waiting for her – or is she waiting for him? She is wearing a beautiful dress in a color he can’t remember when he wakes up, but it doesn’t really matter, since he believes she’s beautiful in whatever she is wearing. Sometimes, she has her hair tied up, sometimes it is let down, making her look younger and almost innocent. However she looks, she’s always smiling at him with her full, red lips, blushing a little when she sees him. In his dreams, they are dancing.

He wakes up sweaty and exhausted, feeling as if he hadn’t slept at all. At some point during the night, he realizes, he must have kicked off his blanket. Sighing, he runs his hands through his blond hair, letting himself fall back into his pillow again. His eyes are open, staring up at the ceiling. Peggy’s image is still in his head - her eyes, her long lashes, her smile. He tries to recall her unique scent, but with a desperate gasp he realizes that he can’t remember anymore. The image of Peggy is slowly fading, as is everything of his old life. Sighing, he closes his eyes again, trying to recall what her voice sounded like. But he doesn’t know anymore. He forgets. He tries not to, he tries to cling to the last remaining vivid memories… but he knows, deep inside of him, that it is no use. His eyes stay closed for the remainder of the night, but he doesn’t fall asleep again.

Hours later, he finds himself sitting in the kitchen with a huge coffee mug in front of him. He stares at the paper, trying to read it, but today the words hardly make any sense. The letters blur in front of his eyes, and so he stares into thin air instead, lost in thought. It is not only Peggy who’s been haunting his dreams lately. It’s Bucky, Howard, his parents… how the way of life back then was so different from what it is now, the way everything was more slow-paced, more _real_. If Tony could hear his thoughts, he would have rolled his eyes by now, he is sure of that. Maybe this is why he still can’t exactly say he is friends with the billionaire, even after more than four months. Well, he’s sure it’s at least one of the reasons.

No one seems to understand his problem with the present day. Except Thor - but Thor is not the right person to speak to about things like these. Which is why he sticks to not talking about it at all, and trying as hard as possible to adapt.

After some time he hears footsteps coming closer, but he doesn’t exactly pay attention to them.

“Hey, Steve.” It’s Bruce, looking almost as miserable as Steve feels himself. The Doc lets himself fall into one of the chairs opposite Steve, his curly hair disheveled and his clothes looking like he had slept in them.

“Good morning?”, he asks, making it sound like a question. Steve shakes his head.

“No. Not really.” Bruce lifts one corner of his mouth into a tiny, lopsided smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Me neither.”

It seems like forever, and the two of them sit opposite each other in almost complete silence until Bruce lets out a sigh.

“I may have done something very, very dumb,” he says, and Steve is yanked out of his daydreaming with a start.

“Why? What happened?”

“Loki happened,” Bruce answers cryptically - and for a second, Steve thinks he can see anger in Bruce’s eyes, but it is gone immediately afterwards.

“I… I talked to Loki yesterday. Long story short, I am going to do some sightseeing with him today.”

“Sightseeing.” Steve lifts an eyebrow.

“You know, I want to show him how many people actually got killed because of him and the Chitauri.”

Steve nods slowly. The Chitauri damaged a couple of buildings pretty badly, which resulted in many people dying. There are still masses of flowers and lights burning for the dead, right beside the road.

“This might not even be that bad an idea, Bruce.” At least, Steve thinks, there is the slight chance of Loki regretting his actions when he sees how many people actually still mourn for the dead.

 “Could you come with me?” Bruce suddenly asks. “I’d rather not take the risk of going there with him alone. I’m on the edge of hulking out whenever I see him.”

“Okay.”

Bruce doesn’t have to say anything else. Steve has seen it in his eyes in numerous occasions, the fear of not being able to control himself, the fear of the Hulk getting too powerful. Bruce does well, actually, his self-control is amazing… but still, he must feel like being a living time-bomb.

“It’s going to be alright, you’ll see.”

*                *                *

“Where is he?” Bruce mumbles, pacing up and down the hallway in front of the elevator. If this wasn’t Loki they were speaking about, Steve would probably compare Bruce’s behavior to a teenage boy waiting for his date to arrive. Well, he wouldn’t exactly say this out _loud_ , but still. Now, the only thing he can do is to smile reassuringly at Bruce, who still looks like he might lose his nerve any moment now.

He buries his hands in his leather jacket – it would be better to avoid being noticed, especially with Loki in tow. There was still the possibility of people recognizing the god of mischief, so Steve had gone for a pair of jeans, a plain white t-shirt and a brown leather jacket, and Bruce dressed in a pair of black jeans and a white button-down. They have to remain inconspicuous, so as not to draw too much attention. He can see the outline of a gun under Bruce’s shirt, tucked under the waistband of his jeans. Before he can ask the Doc if he really thinks a gun is necessary, the elevator opens and Loki steps out, grinning widely.

Loki’s hair is not braided this time, instead it is resting on his shoulders, curling up at the ends. The God is wearing a t-shirt - and Steve thinks someone must have thought it would be a nice joke to let Loki wear a shirt with a huge S.H.I.E.L.D. emblem printed on it. Yet with the way Loki is grinning at him, baring his slightly pointed teeth… he doesn’t feel like laughing. The God raises an eyebrow at him, unsettling the super-soldier, and Loki’s grin gets even wider.

“Dr. Banner, Captain. What a pleasure.”

“Loki.” Steve can hear Bruce hissing through gritted teeth - and for a moment he thinks he is missing something, judging from the way Bruce is staring at Loki, and the look of pure satisfaction on Loki’s face.

“You need a jacket. Those runes probably won’t pass for tattoos,” Bruce says, avoiding Loki’s gaze. But before Loki can turn around and walk into the elevator again to fetch something to wear, Steve slips out of his jacket and hands it over to the trickster, who stares at is skeptically.

“This’ll have to do, come on, let’s go.” He doesn’t want to risk Bruce losing it before their little excursion has even started - and more importantly, he wants to get over with it as soon as possible, so he turns around and heads for the exit, where there is already a black S.H.I.E.L.D. car parked. Without further comment, Steve slides behind the wheel, and with a short glance at Bruce, the Doc shoves Loki in the car and takes a seat right behind Steve.

“Where are we going?” Loki asks after a couple of minutes, clearly uncomfortable. From what Steve can see in the back seat, he is eyeing the street curiously, and he looks slightly terrified every time a car passes them.

“You’ll see,” Bruce hisses, still refusing to look at Loki. In the rearview mirror, Bruce’s skin looks paler than usual, almost to the point where he looks a bit sick. It could be the light, Steve doesn’t know, but he can clearly see the disgusted look on Bruce’s face. By now, the Captain feels sure that he’s missed out on something. Something important.

It wouldn’t normally take long to drive to the memorial – it’s only a couple of blocks away, and to be honest, driving there seems to Steve like a waste of fuel. But today, there’s traffic everywhere the eye can see, and he has to go almost at a walking pace.

There is an uncomfortable silence in the car, and Steve wishes he would have had time to figure out how the radio works – even the mindless, awful music of the 21st century is better than having Bruce pointedly staring out of the window and Loki scowling at everything, both of them not talking.

They arrive after twenty minutes and Steve parks the car, inwardly cursing at the incompetent driver that used two parking spots, making it almost impossible to fit his car in the small space that is left.

“We’re here,” Steve mumbles quietly, staring at the hundreds of lights, flowers, pictures and occasional teddy-bear in front of the now abandoned building. Casualties. This is what the media called the close to 100 people that died during the attack of the Chitauri, most of them when the Leviathans demolished parts of the building in this area. Casualties.

“Get out of the car.” Steve opens the door and steps out, soon followed by Bruce who looks like he is going to puke and Loki, who seems even thinner in the oversized jacket he is wearing. Loki stares at a woman who is kneeling in front of the heaps of flowers, crying quietly, and a small, bemused smile forms on his lips.

“So, what exactly is it you want me to see?” he mumbles, more to himself than to Bruce and Steve. His hands are buried in the pockets of Steve’s jacket, and the wind is blowing his hair in his face.

Bruce makes a couple of steps forward until he reaches a photo of a small girl. There are several small candles, most of them lit, some of them already blown out by the wind.

“Jennifer Steward. Ten years old. We miss you, darling. Love, Mum and Dad,” he reads. “Dad, there is not a single day we don’t think of you. Kara and Dan. Toby, I never told you, but I love you. Cristina.”

“Those are the people that died when you attacked.” Loki turns his head away from Bruce to Steve.

“Why are you showing me this?”

“Those people are dead because of you. Innocent people. People who just happened to be there.” Bruce’s voice is toneless and he still stares at the masses of photos and flowers. He squats down, brushing over the pictures and letters.

Loki lets out a small laugh. “Well… I did not kill them on purpose, rest assured. As you said, those people just happened to be there.”

Bruce still has his back to Loki and Steve, but the Captain can see something shifting in the scientist. _No, please don’t._ The change is so subtle, almost not recognizable, and he can’t even tell what it is exactly. Maybe it is his posture, the way he is tensing, or maybe it is the way his whole body just started trembling slightly. Whatever it is, it is bad, but Steve knows better than to say anything – he knows how telling Bruce to calm down would only worsen the situation.

“Those were people, Loki. Isn’t there even one tiny part of you that regrets what you have done?” Bruce hisses, still not looking at the trickster.

“Why would I mourn over mortals? Why would I regret killing them? If you stepped on an anthill, would you mourn over the death of those insects?”

“You… you can’t compare humans to _ants_!” Bruce hisses and this time he turns around. He obviously tries to keep his voice low, but his whole body is trembling, and he is panting heavily while his skin slowly turns green.

Steve reaches forward to Loki and pulls him away from Bruce - but before manages that, Loki looks the scientist directly in the eye.

“For me, they are all the same,” the trickster whispers, before Steve pulls him away. He opens one of the car’s doors and shoves Loki in.

“You. Don’t even try to get out of here.” In the corner of his eye he can see Bruce stepping backwards, turning around and running away. Loki just grins when Steve fumbles out the key and locks the doors of the car.

As soon as the car is locked, Steve spins on his heels and takes off in the direction he thinks Bruce has been running - although he’s not entirely sure, as he can’t see the Doc anywhere.  Eventually, the street narrows down a bit and there are small alleys to his left and right.

“Bruce!”

“I’m… I’m here.” Steve turns around to the sound of Bruce’s voice, and finds him sitting on the ground next to a garbage can, leaning against the wall. His white shirt is already dirty, but Bruce doesn’t seem to notice or care, all he does is breathe heavily.

“Hey. It’s all right. I locked him in the car.” He takes a couple of steps towards Bruce until he reaches him and bends down to his level, carefully placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I… I have no idea what’s wrong with me at the moment. I can’t control myself when he is around, I just…”

“It’s okay.” He takes Bruce’s hand, pulling him up; and despite the smaller man still trembling, he is relatively steady on his feet. Bruce is looking at him almost desperately, not letting go of his hand.

“I haven’t slept since he’s been in Stark Tower. I can’t concentrate without sleep. I… I’m a ticking time bomb right now.”

Steve doesn’t have to say it – that since the trickster has arrived at Stark Tower, he hasn’t slept that well either. Most of the time he just lies in bed with his eyes closed, pretending to sleep, haunted by his nightmares. He doesn’t have to say it. He knows Bruce probably doesn’t feel much different.

“He can’t stay here forever.” Not that he entirely believes what he’s saying, but he can see the slight glimmer of hope in Bruce’s eyes. There are advantages of being the Captain, Steve muses, still not taking his eyes off Bruce. One of those advantages is that people are much more likely to believe what he is saying.

“No. He _can’t_. We have to get rid of him. For… for Tony.” There is something the Doc isn’t telling him, he’s completely sure of that by now. But the despair in his eyes, paired with his still-trembling fingers and too fast breathing, makes Steve nod in agreement. He pulls Bruce closer until he embraces him in an awkward hug.

“We are stronger than he is. And we will get rid of him, eventually. You’ll see, one day he’ll regret what he did. One day, he will understand.” Steve can feel the other man’s forehead resting on his shoulder, and Bruce’s hands encircling him.

“It was a bad idea, taking him here,” Bruce mumbles.

“It was a start.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any requests? Scenes you would want to see in this fic?


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